Unexpected Pleasures
by imaygoPOP
Summary: She was a lady through and through, expected to marry a man that was worthy of her hand. He was a member of the Kingsguard, expected to live and die for his King. But life had a way of changing things, and sometimes those changes were for the better. Alternative Universe. [Jaime/StarkOC]
1. Lydia

**Lydia**

The cold greeted her as gently as a mother's hug, and the Northern wind caressed her freckled cheeks but despite its sharp bite, Lydia felt nothing but warmth wash over her. "Are you excited m'lady?" Ser Roland asked, "It has been nearly four years since you've last seen home."

Lydia smiled, "and so much has changed in those four years. I wonder if my brothers have finally become men or if they're still claiming to be." Ser Roland let out a bark of laughter in response. Lydia smiled, but a part of her did wonder. When she had left Winterfell at the age of two and ten, she had been a plump little thing with no womanly features to speak of and now... Lydia glanced down.

Highgarden had treated her well. Her breasts had developed, as well as her hips and waist, and the baby fat that had clung to her face since childhood seemed to melt away in the Southern heat. Her hair had lightened considerably, and golden strands were now mixed in with the Tully red. The only complaint she had was the mess of freckles the sun had given her. Then again, Willas never seemed to mind them, and had admitted to liking them on occasion.

Lydia hummed at the thought of Willas Tyrell. If she managed to get her way, he would be her betrothed in a few short weeks. She was brought out of her thoughts when her horse huffed and shook his head, trying to chase away a very persistent fly. "Sweet Boy is such a calm tempered horse, my lady," her handmaiden Nora commented. "I don't think I've seen him shy once since Lord Willas gave him to you." The draft horse's ears twitched at his nickname, and Lydia gently patted his thick neck.

Originally named Florian, the large horse was a parting gift from Willas, and by far the best horse Lydia had ever ridden. Sweet Boy was large, a few inches short of being six feet at the shoulder, and a stool was required for Lydia to mount and dismount the gentle beast. Both saddle and headgear had to be specially made for the draft horse, but Lydia would have gladly paid a King's ransom for her sweet giant. Though she would never admit it, Lydia also enjoyed the surprised looks she received whenever Sweet Boy was brought to her. No one ever believed such a large beast could belong to her.

Sweet Boy huffed, neck muscles twitching beneath her hand.

"Hopefully the stable master will be able to find housing for him," Lydia said. "I'd hate for him to stay outside."

"I'm sure Hullen will find room for the beast," Ser Roland assured. "If not, then a couple of stalls can be built for him. Gods know the beast needs at least two stalls for himself."

Lydia laughed and gently pressed her heels against Sweet Boy's ribs. "Come, the sun will soon set and I'm sure we're all eager to be home." Her horse went from a walk to a trot quickly, eager to burn off some energy, and the rest of her company followed suit.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Lydia spotted the Heart Tree on the horizon. Despite her eagerness to be in the comforting walls of Winterfell, Lydia knew she would only harm her horse if she brought him to a gallop. Reluctantly, she guided Sweet Boy to a jog, then a walk as she crossed the first gate. The guards welcomed her home but as she entered the courtyard, she was surprised to see how empty it was. Reining her horse in, she glanced around. There was a lavishly decorated carriage in the far corner, bearing the banners of the roaring lion of House Lannister and the rearing crowned stag of House Baratheon. "The King has come to visit?" Nora questioned as she drew her mare near her lady. "Has something happened?"

"Lady Lydia!" A voice greeted. An older man with a receding hairline appeared, along with a gaggle of pages. "My lady, we did not expect you for a few more days."

"I am pleased to see you too, Master Poole," Lydia teased, grinning at the old steward.

The steward bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me, my lady. With the King and his horde feasting, I'm afraid Winterfell has become the host to organized chaos."

"Indeed it has," Lydia laughed. "Tell me Master, what brings the King here? Has something happened?" Ser Roland held out his hand, which Lydia graciously took. Her legs were beginning to cramp from the day's riding.

"No, no, nothing has happened. At least nothing that's reached these old ears," Poole said, signaling the pages to help. "As far as I've gathered, the King simply wished to visit. Gods know why he decided to bring half of the court with him, but the King will do what he wants."

A stable hand appeared to lead the horses to the stables, and Lydia caught the mutterings of Master Hullen as he pondered where to put Sweet Boy. "Well then, it seems I must get ready for a feast."

Both Poole and Nora balked at the notion. "My lady you must rest!" Both said. Lydia shook her head.

"And risk insulting the King? I think not, and Gods knows those Southerners are itching for something to gossip about," Lydia said. "Nora, see if you can find Arwyn. I won't have time for a proper bath, but I should be able to wash the dirt off at me at the least." Nora nodded before taking off to the kitchens. "Ser Roland, please have my blue chest brought to my quarters immediately –my rooms haven't been taken over, I presume?" Poole nodded. "Excellent! Everything else can be unloaded when hands are available. If you will excuse me, I must condense an hour and a half of prepping into fifteen minutes."

Lydia walked swiftly threw the stone halls of Winterfell, taking extra care to avoid the halls that led directly to the Great Hall. She could hear the boisterous merriment, and silently cursed herself for her eagerness to be home. "And now I must put on a show for the King and his kin," she sighed. She was tired and dirty, and wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon but Lydia knew she could not. Lady Olenna had taught her better.

She threw her gloves onto her bed and began to unbraid her hair, leaving the door open. Moments later, Nora appeared with Arwyn. Arwyn had barely changed since Lydia last saw her, however her black hair had gotten considerably greyer, and she had a few more wrinkles around her sharp brown eyes. "It's good to see you after so many years, my lady," Arwyn greeted as she walked in. "We'll have to skip the pleasantries though. The feast has just begun, and we need to get you dolled up before every one gets drunk and stupid." Lydia laughed.

"I'm glad to see that sharp tongue of yours hasn't dulled."

Arwyn smirked, "Someone has to keep those daft little maids on their toes. Gods know one of them will end up pregnant by the end of this mummer's show." Arwyn turned her gaze to Nora, raising a thin eyebrow at the brunette.

Nora bristled at the silent accusation. "No man is going to lay a hand on me without my permission, Mistress. It's that stupid Rowan you have to keep an eye on."

Arwyn clicked her tongue, "Time will tell. Where are those useless boys? Gods, Old Nan moves faster than those green boys!"

* * *

Warm water was brought in in a large bowl, and while they waited for Lydia's chest, Nora quickly wiped the dirt and sweat from her lady. The pages soon showed with Lydia's trunk, and were greeted with a stern gaze from Arwyn. While the head maid chastised the young boys, Nora opened the trunk. "The dark blue dress with the white patterned skirt and silver stitching, my lady?"

"Yes and the silver belt. I'll wear my black slippers," Lydia replied as she slipped on her chemise. "No jewelry, but bring out my makeup." Lydia grimaced at the dark circles that were forming under her eyes. Her makeup would hide them quite well, but sleep would remove them permanently. She cast a longing gaze at her bed, before sighing and dragging her comb through her hair. Nora placed the small containers on her vanity table, and then took the comb from her lady so she could apply the thin paste under her eyes. Arwyn attended to Lydia's dress, making sure there were no rips or loose stitches.

Soon her makeup was applied, and her hair was in a braided bun. The dress slipped on easily enough, though Lydia noted the tightness around her chest. Quick as a couple of foxes, Nora and Arwyn applied the finishing touches to Lydia. "I must say, my lady, I did miss helping you dress," Arwyn said as she pulled the silver waist belt tight. "You always knew what you wanted to wear. The Lady Sansa is just beginning to understand how to use clothes to compliment one's self, and spent hours tittering over what dress she wanted to wear. The Lady Arya on the other hand... well she's probably in her bed by now."

"Along with my little brothers I'm sure," Lydia commented as she straightened her dress. She held her head high, allowing Nora to gently rub some perfume on her neck. "I'll have to give them their gifts on the morrow." Glancing at herself in her mirror, Lydia smiled. "Thank you for your assistance, both of you. Gods know I'd be a mess without you. Nora you are free to do what you wish for the evening, and do not worry about waking me tomorrow." Nora nodded. "If you would both excuse me, I must go make my presence known."

By the time Lydia arrived to the feast, the Great Hall had become impossibly loud causing Lydia to grimace inwardly. Like her father, Lydia had no care for the festivities of the South but she knew what was expected of her, and if everything went according to her plans the overly lavish festivities would become part of her life. She smiled and nodded at the doormen, noting that the youngest of the pair greatly approved of the cut of her dress. Straightening her back, Lydia moved gracefully through the crowd, saying her hellos to the lords and ladies. She soon found herself in front of the high table, where her mother and the Queen sat.

Her lady mother beamed at her as she approached. "Lydia!" her mother said as she extended her hand, "I wasn't expecting you for a few more days!"

Lydia grasped her mother's hand and smiled. "I was too eager to return home, and asked Ser Roland to travel at a quicker pace." Releasing her mother's hand, Lydia curtsied towards the Queen. "Your Grace, it is an honour to meet you."

Queen Cersei had the typical Lannister colouring, golden hair and green eyes, but to Lydia the Queen was far from a typical Lannister. Her hair looked as if it was spun gold, while her sharp eyes could make emeralds jealous from their beauty. With high cheek bones, glowing sun kissed skin, and full lips, Lydia could not help but feel inspired. _I must remember to sketch her,_ Lydia thought as she rose. The Queen smiled, and Lydia watched as she quickly assessed her.

"You must tell me your secret, Lady Catelyn," The Queen said, her gaze unwavering.

"My secret, Your Grace?"

"You must have one, how else would you have given birth to two beautiful daughters?" Queen Cersei complimented. Lydia smiled, while her mother softly laughed. "Your mother tells me you were being fostered in Highgarden."

"Yes, Your Grace. This is the first time I have been home in four years," Lydia replied.

"And how does your home compare to the Reach?"

Lydia smiled sweetly, knowing what game the Queen was playing. Lady Olenna had posed similar questions to her during her fostering. "The Reach is as beautiful as they say, Your Grace. I spent many an hour simply walking in the gardens, and taking in the exotic flowers. Truly, there is no other place quite like it," Lydia answered. "But, if I am to be honest Your Grace, as lovely and warm as the Reach is, Winterfell is my home. Nothing truly compares to the warmth Winterfell gives me." Lydia glanced at her mother, who was looking at her with pride and happiness.

The Queen smiled at her once more, appearing to be satisfied with her answer. "I'm glad to hear that you still hold your true home in your heart."

"For as long as I draw breath, Your Grace," Lydia said. "May I be excused, Your Grace? I would like to greet my father." The Queen nodded, and Lydia curtsied once more before walking back into the crowd. She had yet to see her brothers, or her sister Sansa.

Gently, Lydia placed a hand on her father's shoulder, drawing his attention from the Lord he was speaking with. "Father."

Eddard Stark turned his head, and his usual stoic face was replaced by a wide grin. "By the Gods, Lydia. I wasn't expecting you for a few more days," her father said as he drew her into an embrace. "Highgarden has been good to you, pup."

"Indeed it has," a voice behind her said.

"Uncle Benjen!" Lydia cried as she embraced the older man. "It's been so long!" She looked at her uncle, and smirked. "You've gotten greyer."

"And you, my dear, have grown into astonishing beauty. Gods, let me look at you," Benjen said. Lydia laughed and twirled, her dress swaying about her. "It looks like we'll be busy chasing away Southern suitors, Ned."

"Between us and her brothers, no Southerner will be able to get near her," her father said. Both Stark men laughed, and Lydia could not help but giggle. "I should introduce you to Robert, pup, but…" Her father searched through the crowd, and his cheery grin slipped. Lydia followed his gaze, and was unsurprised by the sight she saw.

She had vague memory of the King from her childhood. The last she saw of him was nine years ago and even then he did not impress her. Before, he was a tall man broad man with glimpses of a belly but it would seem that he had gained three stones since then. Red faced and fat, King Robert struck her as more of a merchant then a King, or even a simple drunken whoremonger. From the way he groped and laughed as serving wenches passed him, Lydia was leaning towards whoremonger. It confounded her that the King had gotten so fat, while her father had barely changed since Robert's Rebellion.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Lydia interjected, not wanting to meet the King while he was deep in his cups. "I simply wished to see you and mother. Perhaps I'll mingle before heading to bed."

Her father gazed at her softly. "You do not have to mingle if you are tired, Lydia. No one would blame you if you went to bed now."

_No one but me, _Lydia thought. "And leave all the fun? Truly you jest father," Lydia said, placing a reassuring hand on her father's arm. "Do not worry; I will only stay for a short while. Now, Uncle Benjen, how have you been?"

* * *

By the hour of the eel, Lydia felt as if she mingled enough. By tomorrow, most of the Northern Lords would return to their Keeps, and she would be left to small talk in peace with the Southerners. Both her father and mother had retired for the evening, along with the Queen, and Lydia knew she could retire without feeling guilty. She said her goodnights to her brothers, and her father's ward, before leaving the Great Hall. She shivered in delight as the cold air greeted her.

In the distance, she heard a wolf howl and Lydia stopped to listen. The single howl of a lone wolf was music to her ears. "Hearing something interesting, I presume?" Someone asked.

Lydia turned swiftly, unsettled at the fact that she had been caught in a vulnerable moment. "Lord Tyrion, I presume?"

She knew it was him. Gossip of the Lord Tywin's dwarf son had reached as far as the North, and only increased while she was in Highgarden. They spoke of his lechery, and drunkenness, as often as they spoke of his wit and cunning. But most of all, they spoke of his height and appearance. Lydia had taken these tales with a grain of salt, wanting to forge her own opinion rather than rely of second-hand accounts, and now she had her chance.

"You presume well, my lady," Lord Tyrion said. He had a wineskin in one hand, and from the way he swayed as he approached her, Lydia knew it wasn't his first. "I assume you are Lord Stark's eldest daughter?"

"Lydia Stark," she greeted, curtsying. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my lord. I have heard many a tale of you."

"And I you," Lord Tyrion replied. "Shall we exchange tales?"

Lydia chuckled. "They say you are a cunning man, and always have a witty comeback at the tip of your tongue."

"I'm sure that's not the only thing they say about my tongue," he laughed. "I've heard that the Tyrells were grooming Lord Stark's eldest daughter into a lady of the highest caliber." He squinted at her, and smirked. "You certainly look the part. I dare say you could give my sweet sister a run for her money."

"You flatter me, my lord. However, I must politely disagree. The Queen is a beauty that happens once in a lifetime."

"And you speak the part," Lord Tyrion laughed. "Now, tell me, my lady, do you think like a lady or is there a cunning mind inside that pretty little head."

Lydia grinned at the small man. "You will have to find that out for yourself, my lord."

Lord Tyrion chuckled. "I always did like a challenge. If you excuse me, my lady, I must get back to the festivities."

"Goodnight, Lord Tyrion. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

"And goodnight to you, Lady Lydia. I hope to converse with you again."


	2. Eddard

**Eddard**

By the time the hunting party set out, the sun had been up for an hour. A dozen men made up the hunting party, with the King, Ser Barristan and Ned at the head of it while the crown prince, Ned's sons and his brother trailed a few paces behind them. The boys chatted quietly with their uncle; laughing at the gift they had given Lydia. Ned knew that his daughter would take a shining to the little direwolf pup, even if their first meeting was less than desirable. "Ned! Come up here!" Robert barked. Nodding at Ser Barristan, Ned gently pressed his heels against his charger.

"My King," Ned said.

"Ah, drop that pleasantry shit. It's just you and me, Ned," Robert said. "Gods, we've gotten old. Soon this damn country will be run by our children, while you and I rot in the ground."

Ned looked at his old friend peculiarly. "Those are dark thoughts, Robert. Has something happened?"

"Has something happened, he says! When is something not happening!" Robert sneered. The King sighed, as if he could feel the weight of the Kingdom on his broad shoulders. "Tywin Lannister made me a very tempting offer, Ned." Ned remained silent, letting his King continue. "A third of the debt owed to Casterly Rock forgiven, in exchange for the Kingslayer."

"That is a tempting offer," Ned acknowledged. "One that, I assume, Jon insisted you take?"

"I didn't need Jon to make that decision, Ned. I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to kingship and running this bloody kingdom," Robert laughed. "No, the original offer was half but Jon argued that if I released the Kingslayer, Tywin would marry him off to the Tyrells and I would have been in deeper shit then I already am. So, I now I have the great honour of deciding who the Kingslayer will take as a wife."

Foreboding gripped at Ned, and he looked at his old friend guardedly. "And that brings you to the North, in hopes of marrying him to my daughter."

"It's a good match Ned," Robert said, taking his eyes off the path to meet Ned's gaze. "She'll be wed to the son of the wealthiest man in Westeros. She'll want for nothing."

_Except a husband that will love and respect her,_ Ned thought bitterly as he looked away. He knew he would have to let his daughters go, but that did not stop him from wishing the best for them. Sansa was a lady through and through, with songs of bold knights and beautiful maidens ever in her head while Arya was a wild one, wanting nothing more than to chase after her brothers. Lydia, however, was the best of her sisters and her mother. She deserved better than a Lannister for a husband. "I will have to talk to Catelyn, Your Grace. She deserves to have some input on her eldest daughter's future."

"Fine, fine. But I want an answer by tomorrow evening! Now, let's go kill something!" Robert yelled, kicking his horse into a gallop.

* * *

The hunt went smoothly, and by the end they had bagged a handsome stag. The King had declared it a successful hunt, claiming there would be another feast tonight. Ned had smiled at his friend's antics, promising a good meal but nothing else. That would not stop the King though, and Ned was sure another barrel of wine would be gone.

Dismounting, Ned handed his reins to a stable hand before directing the stag to the kitchens. "Father," Robb called. His son jogged towards him, concern etched across his face. "Is everything alright? You've been distracted since your talk with King Robert."

Ned smiled softly, "You saw that?"

"It was hard to miss," Robb replied.

Sighing, Ned placed a reassuring hand on his heir's shoulder. "It's nothing that concerns you right now, Robb. I just need to talk with your mother. Go. Find your sister and see how she's doing with her gift."

Robb nodded, grinning all the while. Ned watched as his heir and bastard headed towards the Keep, the weight on his shoulders lessening a bit. But it soon returned, and Ned headed towards his solar. Nearly seven and ten years of being the Lord of Winterfell, and he still felt like the second son; unprepared and unworthy of the title. Placing his riding gloves on his desk, Ned sighed.

A hundred different thoughts ran through his mind. Lydia had been fostered in the South, she knew their customs, their courtesies, and would flourish down there. Even when she was a little girl, Ned knew she would marry a Southern man. She was far too clever for the North, and Ned, as much as he hated to admit it, knew she would grow bored of a Northern husband. The thought of her so far south frightened him though, and he was reluctant to let her go again particularly since she just returned. "Ned?" Stirring from his thoughts, Ned glanced at his doorway. Catelyn stood in the archway, her worry clear on her face. He felt the breath escape from him, and Ned extended an arm towards his wife.

Catelyn was at his side instantly, wrapping her arm around his waist. Knowing they were alone, Ned buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of sweet alyssum and spiced wine, and he felt his trouble lessen. "Our son told me you were troubled," Catelyn mumbled against his shoulder.

"Our son is a perceptive one," Ned chuckled. He released his wife and removed his fur coat. "The King has made me a difficult offer." He glanced at Catelyn, waiting for a response. When she gave none, he continued. "Robert has offered to wed Ser Jaime to Lydia."

Catelyn blinked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Ser Jaime is a member of the Kingsguard. Their vows say they will take no wife and serve their King until death."

"Yes, they do, but when Tywin Lannister offers to forget a third of what I assume is a very large debt, even sacred vows hold no meaning." Ned chuckled dryly. If he agreed, he would be sending his second born to a pit of snakes. "I'm torn Catelyn."

"I know, my love," Catelyn said, clutching his hand. "On the one hand, if we agree, Lydia will be sent south once again and possibly become a pawn in someone else's game. On the other hand-"

"If we reject the offer, we risk insulting not only the King but Tywin Lannister."

Catelyn smiled weakly. "Either way, we risk something." Ned nodded, rubbing his hand against his neck. "May I speak my mind?"

"Of course."

"Why don't we ask our daughter? It is only right that she have a say in her future." A moment passed before Ned nodded his consent. He watched as his wife went to the door and beckoned a servant over. Sighing to himself, Ned circled his desk to sit in his chair. Soon Catelyn was by his side, affectionately rubbing his shoulder. "You fear she'll say yes."

"She's been gone for four years, Cat. She's a woman grown now," Ned sighed. "When she left, she was just a girl of two and ten who wanted nothing more than to draw and read but now... I fear I won't recognize the woman who has come back to us."

Catelyn squeezed his shoulder tenderly. "She is still our daughter, a Stark of Winterfell. Nothing, not even a marriage to a Lannister, will change that." Catelyn's voice was soft as she spoke, and Ned could not help but feel reassured. He reached up to grasp her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Perhaps you're right."

"Perhaps I am."

* * *

Minutes passed before there was a soft knock on his door. "Enter," Ned called, straightening in his chair.

Lydia entered, and Ned felt his breath catch in his throat. He had saw her last night and had been surprised by how much she changed in four years, but to see her now in the light of day with no one but his wife, allowed him to truly look at her. She was taller than she was four years ago, and her hair had grown past her waist. Like her mother, Lydia had red hair but the sun had bleached it to a golden red rather than the dark red Catelyn and Sansa had. She had a mess of freckles on her shoulders, and face, giving her a youthful look. What made Ned pause the most was her face. Despite having her mother's colouring, Lydia had inherited his long face and the Stark grey eyes, and Ned knew that men would see his daughter as a rare beauty. _A Northern beauty with Southern colouring_, Ned thought. Benjen was right, he would have been chasing off potential Southern suitors. _If only I could have driven off the Lannisters._

"Is something wrong, Father?" Lydia asked as she closed the door.

"No, no. Some would say this is good news," Ned said, gesturing for her to take a seat. He cleared his throat, at gazed directly at his daughter. "The King has made me a generous offer."

"Does he plan to wed Sansa to the crown Prince?" Lydia asked, "Because I must insist that you consider other options for Sansa. Future Queen or not, Sansa is far too... naïve for King's Landing. I say this out of love for my sister."

Ned was taken back. Did Robert intend to wed Sansa to Joffrey as well? "No... the offer was for you. It seems Ser Jaime has been released from his vows, and the King thinks you would make a fine wife for him."

His daughter looked long and hard at him. "The Kingsguard serves for life," Lydia said carefully. "If Ser Jaime is being released from his vows, there must be a very good reason behind it."

"You were always the clever one," Ned chuckled. "I will not lie to you Lydia. Ser Jaime is being released to repay a third of the debt owed to Casterly Rock. Now I don't know how much that is, but for both the King and the Hand to agree to this deal, it must be a hefty price. The only condition is that the King has control over who Ser Jaime will wed."

"And the King suggested me?"

"Yes."

Lydia became quiet, and Ned feared for the worst. Moments passed before she spoke. "May I think on it, Father?"

"Yes, of course. The King is not expecting an answer until tomorrow evening."

"Then he will have my answer tomorrow evening," Lydia said. "May I be excused?" Nodding, Ned watched in silence as his daughter left.

"I think that went rather well," Catelyn commented.

"Too well," Ned added. "I was expecting her to fight, to argue but she seemed... conflicted."

"As you said before Ned, she has been in the South for four years," Catelyn replied. "Who knows what the Tyrells have been teaching her. All I know is that she's become the definition of a highborn lady! You should have seen her this morning while we broke our fast. She made Princess Myrcella laugh, and managed to get Prince Tommen to talk. You should have seen the way Rickon acted around her! It was if she wasn't gone for his most of his life!" Catelyn leaned against his desk, and stared down at him. "She's still our daughter Ned, but I would be lying to you if I said she was the same. She has different hopes and ambitions, and if the Queen of Thrones was her teacher..." Catelyn trailed off, unsure of what the matriarch of Highgarden could have taught their daughter. "She will always be a Stark of Winterfell, even if she is in Lannister hands."

"So you believe she'll say yes?" Ned asked.

"I believe it's a possibility."

* * *

**A/N:**

So I'm going to try to bounce between Lydia's point of view and someone else's point of view. More then likely, the later chapters are going to go Lydia, Jaime, Lydia, etc but I'll try to vary it.

Thank you for the favs, follows and reviews!


	3. Lydia II

**A/N:** Just wanted to say thanks for the follows, favs, and reviews! And to xenocanaan, I understand. I was writing this chapter, and so tempted to rewrite it to a Willas story. Sigh. Maybe in the future!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Lydia**

A hundred different thoughts danced about in her head. A marriage to a Lannister opened far more doors than being married to Willas. The Lannister name already had respect, due to Lord Tywin. On the other hand, Lydia would be marrying Ser Jaime Lannister, the infamous Kingslayer. She already knew both her father's and brothers's opinion on the man; they thought him to be without honour, and Lydia agreed. There was, however, a small part in the back of her mind that nagged her constantly. A burning question that she knew she would never get the answer to. Why? What would drive a man to break sacred vows?

Marrying Jaime Lannister could reveal that drive.

Lydia was not so naïve as to believe that, but she saw the potential. House Stark would gain its Southern allies, and Lydia's sons would become heirs to Casterly Rock. She would be feared and respected. However, there was a great chance she would never have the marriage her mother and father had. There was a chance she would never grow to like Jaime like she had grown to like Willas. There was a chance Ser Jaime would never respect her.

In the four years she spent in Highgarden, Lydia had become fond of its heir. Willas Tyrell was eight years her senior, and quite comely. Like his younger siblings, Willas had curly brown hair and brown eyes. He kept his hair short, stating that he did not like the way his hair curled into his eyes, and always seemed to have scruff on his face. Lydia had asked him once why he did not simply shave every morning and Willas had sworn to her that he did. "I'm simply destined for a beard," he had explained. Lydia had questioned him, asking if he was destined for a beard than why shave every morning. "Sometimes, my lady, you need to fight your destiny," he had responded. Lydia called him a strange man, making him laugh. She had been three and ten at the time and had heard many songs played on many instruments, but in that moment Lydia had never heard anything quite as lovely as Willas Tyrell's laugh.

A friendship had blossomed between them after that moment, and soon a light courtship. They both knew that there was a chance that nothing would come from it, but it had not stopped them. Small gifts were exchanged, flirtatious words, the odd chaste kiss but nothing with promise. Promises belonged to those who had control over their lives, Lydia had told him once. Even when she was a child, Lydia knew what her hand meant. She was the eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Her hand was at the beck and call of her father, and now it was at the mercy of the King's.

Despite that, she was given some control and she had a decision to make. Power or comfort? Influence or familiarity?

"Is everything alright, my lady?" Nora asked.

Lydia startled from her thoughts, and looked around. She was in her room, when she had got there she did not know, and she had her sketch book out. Glancing down, she saw that she was sketching a man but he had no facial features. "Yes, forgive me. I was... sketching," Lydia sighed. "I was sketching my future by the looks of it."

"May I?" Lydia handed her friend the sketchbook, hoping Nora would be able to identify the faceless man. "By the looks of him, he could either be Lord Willas or... Ser Jaime. My lady, has something happened?"

Lydia laughed dryly. "Everything and nothing, Nora. The King has made my father a proposition, and to make a long story short... I have the chance to marry Ser Jaime Lannister. The trouble is..."

"You had hoped to marry Willas Tyrell," Nora finished. "May I sit my lady?" Lydia nodded and gestured to the chair across from her. "May I also speak my mind?"

"Nora, you have been my maid for seven years and my friend for six," Lydia said. "I always want you to speak your mind."

"You may come to regret that, my lady," Nora laughed. "My lady, you are a bright young woman. I'm sure you've already thought of the benefits and consequences of agreeing to or rejecting the offer, but my question to you is, what marriage would be the most exciting?"

"Exciting?" Lydia repeated, smiling at her maid. "Nora you know marriage between nobles isn't about excitement. It's about duty and benefits, and legacy and other boring noble things."

"True, my lady, but you have a choice now," Nora said. "Ser Jaime is twice your age, and has a world of experience. By the Gods, he's the infamous Kingslayer! He's the son of Lord Tywin, the former Hand of the Mad King and Warden of the West, the twin to the current Queen, and uncle to the royal children. Your children would be golden lions, and heirs to Casterly Rock." Nora paused to let Lydia interrupt. When she didn't, Nora continued, "Lord Willas is the son of Lord Mace Tyrell, and grandson to the Queen of Thorns. The Reach is beautiful and rich. If the Lady Olenna gets her way, Lady Margary will be queen," Nora whispered the last part. "Your children will be roses, and cousins to the future royal children." Nora paused once more. "Either way you will want for nothing, my lady, but I must add that Lord Willas... with his leg there is a chance he will not be able to give you children."

Lydia nodded, knowing she would most likely receive the blame for lack of heirs. She knew there was a chance that more than his leg was crushed by his horse so many years ago, and if she was a different lady she would have taken the chance. But she was Lydia of House Stark, and her summer was ending. She could not afford to be a reckless little girl. "So, House Lannister would be a better choice? I would risk a husband who may not care for me or even respect me, and a good-father that will likely think of me as nothing but a broodmare for his legacy."

Nora reached across the table to grasp Lydia's hands. "My lady, you are as clever as you are beautiful, and the four years in Highgarden have only sharpened your cleverness," Nora squeezed her hand and grinned. "I think you'll be able to charm an old lion and his golden cub."

* * *

The afternoon had passed quickly, and Lydia found herself in the glass garden waiting for the evening meal. _His hair is not as golden as the Queen's_, Lydia thought. She had thought over Nora's words, finding wisdom in the older woman but she had until tomorrow evening to finalize her decision. Until then, she was content to simply draw her potential husband._ Golden yes, but just a bit darker_. Beside her, her newly acquired direwolf pup stirred. The pup had been unceremoniously given to her in the early morning, along with her brothers's direwolves, Grey Wind and Ghost. Lydia had been left to watch over the pups while her brothers joined the King in his hunt. Luckily, she had gifts to give to her siblings, which meant a day of searching for them and in the end she had three tired direwolves. She had named her little pup Bluebell for her livid eyes.

Bluebell's head raised and she barked. Looking away from her drawing, Lydia smiled pleasantly. "Good evening Lord Tyrion, I had hoped to see you again. Tell me, how fare you?" Lydia asked as the little lord approached.

"As well as any man that drank as much as the King," Tyrion replied. "I had hoped to see you again too, my lady. We left off on such a wonderful conversation!" He took a seat on the bench across from her, his feet just above the ground. "Ah, I see you have a little direwolf too. Hopefully yours is friendlier than Ned Stark's bastard's."

"You mean my brother Jon's," Lydia corrected.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to offend."

"I am not offended, Lord Tyrion. Just correcting a mistake."

"Of course. I understand completely," Tyrion said. "To change the subject, may I know what you're drawing?"

"Your brother," Lydia answered. She rubbed her finger against the paper, smearing the different shades of yellow together. "It's a stroke of good luck that you've come to the gardens, my lord. I would like an opinion on it. I can't seem to get the hair quite right." Handing the sketch book over, Lydia wiped her hands on a rag. "I've noticed that despite being twins, there are a few differences between your brother and sister. The hair for instance. The Queen's is the classic Lannister gold, but Ser Jaime's… I can't quite place it."

Lydia watch as Lord Tyrion studied the drawing. After a short while, he looked up. "The roots of his hair are darker than the rest." He turned the drawing towards her and gestured at the sketching, then turned it back. "May I look through your book?" Lydia nodded and started to collect her pastels. She listened to the soft flicks of turning pages, waiting for Lord Tyrion to comment. "These are beautiful, my lady. I've never known a lady with this much artistic talent."

Lydia blushed. "Thank you, my lord. I've been drawing since Maester Luwin left his inks unattended."

Lord Tyrion chuckled, before closing the sketchbook. "So tell me Lady Lydia, what has inspired you to draw my brother?"

Lydia glanced at the man carefully. How much did he know? How many people knew about the King's plans? After witnessing the King at the feast, it would not surprise Lydia if he accidently shouted his plans after one too many cups of wine. "It's as you say, Lord Tyrion. Inspiration."

"Ah, so beauty inspires you?"

Lydia sniffed. "History inspires me, my lord. Sooner or later, I will be dead as will everyone I have ever known, but I refuse to die without leaving something behind. Even if it's just a simple book with drawings of the places I've been or the people I've seen."

Lord Tyrion nodded thoughtfully. "That is an honourable task."

"Thank you," Lydia said. She smiled at Tyrion and stood, Bluebell following her lead. "The evening meal is most certainly about to happen, my lord. Would you care to escort me to the Great Hall? I find myself enjoying your company."

"You would be the first!" Tyrion laughed as he slid off the bench, and handed her her sketchbook.

"And hopefully not the last."

* * *

The evening sup was only half-way done and Lydia had already reached the limit of her patience. The King was, unsurprisingly, drunk, making him both loud and obnoxious. Every time the King talked, he yelled, and Lydia felt pity for both her father and the Queen. Her father took it with grace, but Lydia saw the way he flinched whenever the King began to bark orders. The Queen had a cold look on her face, and Lydia could see she wanted nothing more than to knock her husband into an early slumber. The Queen's only solace seemed to be her twin. Lydia had watched them converse throughout the meal, and slowly Lydia had become irritated.

She had gotten Ser Jaime's nose wrong.

_It's so much wider than the Queen's, and how could I have not noticed that bump?_ Lydia thought. She would have to redraw him, which meant finding the right colours for his hair. Lydia sighed to herself. Three hours of effort for nothing.

"I supposed that Ser Jaime is handsome enough, but nothing to sigh over," Theon Greyjoy said.

Lydia twitched. When she was a child, she was smitten with Theon but her years in the South taught her that she only liked him because he was something unique. A kraken in a den of wolves. Now, as a woman grown, she was embarrassed that she ever thought he was to be her betrothed. Lydia had hoped Theon would have forgotten her girlhood crush on him, but as fate would have it... he did not.

"And I suppose you know what's sigh worthy, Theon?" Lydia jested. She smiled sweetly, despite wanting nothing more knock Theon across the head.

Theon pretended to tuck a loose lock behind her ear. "You, for one, Lydia. The South has done wonders to you."

_And what does that mean?! _True, she had not been as pretty as Sansa when she was younger but she was not homely! Her baby fat had simply clung to her face far longer than it was supposed to! "Theon, you flatter me." _Ass._

"Theon, leave my sister alone," Robb said. "And move over, I have something I need to discuss with her."

"As you wish, _my lord_," Theon jested. Robb rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his face told a different story. Theon and Robb had grown as close as brothers in the four years she was gone.

"What did father want?"

"Straight to the point as always," Lydia commented. "I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

"We Northerners have no need for flowery words," Robb replied, puffing his chest. "Or have you forgotten?"

Lydia shoved him playfully. Taking her goblet, she took a small sip as Robb looked at her expectantly. "You are not to make a fuss, or protest," Lydia ordered. Robb's eyes narrowed but he nodded all the same. "The King wants to marry me to Ser Jaime." Tully blue eyes widened and Lydia had to pinch Robb to keep him from shouting. "I said not to fuss!"

"I'm sorry! How am I to keep calm if there's a chance my sister is going to marry the Kingslayer!" Robb hissed. "And how is that possible? The Kingsguard swear the same vows as the Night's Watch! They shall have no wives, father no children, etcetera, etcetera."

"Vows mean nothing if the price is right," Lydia replied. "This is a good match, Robb, and it leaves you free to take a Northern wife."

"I don't care about who I wed! You can't want this." Lydia remained silent, not daring to meet her brother's eyes. "Tell me you don't want this."

"I said it once, and I'll say it again. It's a good match." Standing, Lydia dusted off imaginary lint. "Now, if you excuse me, the King is beckoning me." She heard Robb curse under his breath, but ignored him. She did not expect him to understand. Robb was a man, and had a choice in this lifetime. How could he possibly understand what she wanted? "Your Grace." Lydia curtsied and smiled.

King Robert was even worse in person. His face was red from the many cups of wine, and a thick, black beard hid a double chin. Sweat had begun to stain the yellow silk tunic he wore, as well as wine stains. How anyone thought this man should be King, Lydia would never know.

"There's the lovely Stark girl! My Gods Ned! Where have you've been hiding this beauty?" King Robert bellowed.

"She has been in Highgarden for four years, Your Grace. She only returned last night," her father responded.

"Highgarden, eh? They sure grow them pretty in the Reach." The King leaned against the table, causing it to creak under his mass. "There have been rumours about those little roses. They say they were grooming a wolf and trying to turn it into a rose! Tell me girl, is that true?"

"Lady Olenna taught me the ways of a Southern lady, Your Grace, and I consider Lady Margaery a dear friend," Lydia said. "But as to turning me into a rose, I must deny that accusation. I am as much as a wolf as I was four years ago."

The King laughed, a bit of spittle flying from his mouth. "That's good to hear! Last thing I need is to wed some rose covered wolf to the Kingslayer! Speaking of him. Kingslayer! Get over here!"

"Robert is this really necessary? Lydia hasn't even given her answer," her father argued.

"I'm just introducing them, Ned. Calm down, for Gods' sake."

"You called, Your Grace?" Ser Jaime drawled. Lydia looked up at him. Ser Jaime was tall, not as tall as the King but still over six feet. His blond hair curled towards the end, and Tyrion was correct. His roots were darker than the rest of his hair. Overall, he was quite comely. Strong jaw and chin, straight nose, and a pair of sharp green eyes.

"Lady Lydia, this is Jaime Lannister. Tywin's golden boy," the King introduced.

"Ser Jaime," Lydia said, curtsying. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard many tales of your skills as a knight."

Jaime Lannister bowed his head towards her. "Lady Lydia Stark. I've heard a few rumours about you in King's Landing."

Smiling, Lydia replied, "I hope they are all positive."

Jaime hummed in response. "If you excuse me, my lady, my brother is in need of me."

Lydia watched Ser Jaime leave, and sighed to herself. The Lady of Casterly Rock was looking less appealing to her.


	4. Tyrion

**A/N:** Not my best work if I'm going to be completely honest, but I had to make myself write or else get stuck in the spiral that is writer's block.

Also, holy shit! Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews. It's like everyday I get a new follower! So thank you, and enjoy!

* * *

**Tyrion**

The Starks were an interesting lot, and Winterfell, for all its greys and whites, was as bustling as King's Landing.

Tyrion watched and listened as the staff went about their business. From what he heard, half were talking about the King's arrival, while the other half gossiped about Ned Stark's daughter. Lady Lydia Stark, the girl who left to be fostered at Highgarden four years ago, and came back to her home a woman grown. A beautiful young woman at that.

And if King Robert had his way, Lady Lydia would soon become his good-sister. Tyrion could not tell who was more miserable at the idea; his brother Jaime or Ned Stark.

"Good morning, dear brother," Tyrion greeted as he sat down. "Where is our sweet sister?"

"She and Myrcella are being shown the wonders of Winterfell by Lady Catelyn and her daughter Sansa," Jaime replied lazily. "What there is to see in this bland place is a mystery to me."

Tyrion reached for a loaf of bread. Breakfast this morning consisted of a variety of meats and fruits, but all he wanted was a simple loaf to calm his stomach. The Northerners made they're alcohol so much stronger and harsher than those of the South. "Well there's the library, but I know you could not careless for books. The Godswoods are a sight to behold, but I know you do not put much fate in the Seven, so the Old would probably mean nothing to you," Tyrion said as he broke his bread. "I spent a small part of my afternoon in the glass gardens, and they were only interesting because of who was in them rather than what."

"Oh?"

"Lady Lydia Stark was hiding amongst the fruits and flowers," Tyrion said with a smirk. He supressed his laughter as his brother's face soured. Jaime had never good at hiding his displeasure, and Tyrion found a small joy in watching his brother frown. "Why the sour face brother? She's a lovely young woman of six and ten, and unlike most of the ladies her age she has a sharp mind and provides witty banter. You could do far worse than her."

"Why Tyrion, if I didn't know better I say you've become fond of the little wolf," Jaime said. He clapped Tyrion on the back, and a lazy smile appeared. "It's settled! I will join the Night's Watch, and you dear brother can marry Ned Stark's daughter. Try not to burn Casterly Rock to the ground; I have such fond memories of it."

"From one oath of celibacy to another," Tyrion commented. "I never knew you to dislike the fairer sex so much. Besides, the day our father gives me the Rock is the day dragons fly through the sky."

Jaime scoffed and began to pick at an orange. "I don't dislike the fairer sex. What I dislike is having my future ripped from my hands," he muttered. "I joined the Kingsguard to escape being a Lord, but it seems the Gods have other plans."

"You mean our lord Father," Tyrion corrected. "It would seem two million gold dragons are enough for a King to reconsider a sacred vow."

"Three million dragons," Jaime said. "Three million to reconsider and two million to hand pick my bride." Jaime sighed, jabbing his fork into the mangled orange. "I need to hit something, or someone. I'll be in the yard."

_The New and the Old have mercy on the poor man who challenges you, _Tyrion thought. Finishing his meal, Tyrion made his way to the library. The climb was a long one, the stairs being too high and too narrow for his stunted legs but eventually Tyrion found himself amongst the old, leather bound books of the North. And he was not alone. "Lady Lydia, it is good to see you again."

The red haired girl looked up from her book and smiled. "Good morning Lord Tyrion. If I was a religious woman, I would say the Gods wanted us to keep each other company," she said.

"You do not keep to the Old or the New?" Tyrion asked. A small fire was roaring behind her, away from the books and scrolls.

"I seek solace in the Old, but the New hold no interest to me. I find more comfort in the thought of having control over my own fate, rather than some Gods controlling it," Lydia admitted.

"You certainly are an interesting young lady," Tyrion commented. He made his way to a nearby bookshelf, browsing through the different tomes and picking at the scrolls.

"I'll take that as a compliment, my lord," Lydia said, a touch of laughter in her voice. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Not really," Tyrion replied. "But I am open to suggestions." He heard the gentle scrapping of wood against stone, and turned to watch as Ned Stark's daughter moved about. _She moves with grace. Almost like she's dancing. _Tyrion wondered if her grace came naturally to her, or if her years under Lady Olenna's watchful eyes and sharp tongue had made her that way. Moments passed before she returned with a red-leathered bound book in her arms.

Dropping it on the table, the lady gestured for him to take a seat. "Arymidon's _Engine of War_. I have never read it myself, but the septon was simply beside himself when he received it."

Seating himself, Tyrion carefully flipped through the book. "Is this a completed copy, my lady?"

"From what I understand, yes."

"This is a very rare book, my lady. I thank you for bringing it to me."

Lydia smiled widely, obviously pleased with her choice. "Then I shall leave you to your reading. Enjoy!" She swiftly went back to her side of the table, and began to flip idly through her book. Every so often she scribbled in the small notebook beside her, and Tyrion could see the odd drawing. He balanced his attention between _Engines of War_ and the lady before him, curious as to what she was writing. After a while, she seemed to grow restless.

"Your book not to your liking?" Tyrion asked absentmindedly.

"Hmm? Oh no, the book has everything I was looking for. Maester Bartram's books on botany," Lydia replied. She placed her quill down, fingers playing with the corners of her book. "I have wanted to ask you a question, my lord."

"You may, my lady, though I may choose not to answer it, and if I may be so bold, would you call me Tyrion? I rarely hear my name, and it would be a pleasure to hear it from a lovely lady," Tyrion said.

A small smile appeared on her lips. She sat up straighter. "Then I must ask you to do the same, Tyrion. My question concerns your brother."

"My brother?"

"Yes. Living in King's Landing I'm sure you have heard of what your lord Father has offered the King," Lydia said looking at him expectantly.

"If you are referring to the offer that concerns the release of my brother from the Kingsguard, which good King Robert has accepted, then yes. I also know that you are the reason the King came this far North," Tyrion said. He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his lap. "It's only by pure coincidence that you arrived the same day as the King."

"Then there's no need to dance around the subject," Lydia said. "What is your brother like? I think I have somewhat of a right to know about who I may be marrying."

"May be? So your father hasn't given his consent?"

Lydia smiled. "My father is waiting for my answer. I am one of the few women who have a say in their betrothal, and I am only lucky because my father respects me and my opinions."

Tyrion nodded, not doubting Lydia's words. "We Lannisters are a prideful bunch, and being the first son, that pride has only grown in my brother. Jaime is arrogant, hot-headed, stubborn, and he never takes anything seriously. He is the sort of man that will smile and shake your hand while holding a knife in the other. He uses his words like he uses his sword; with the intent to wound or kill. His biggest flaw is that he is too good of a knight. He was made to fight, and if he could, my brother would live and die by the sword," Tyrion answered. He paused, letting his words sink in before he continued. "But, despite this, my brother is fiercely loyal. He protects the ones he loves with a ferocity I've never seen. He is a good man, and for that I am willing to forgive him for just about anything."

A silence fell upon them, one that Tyrion was glad for. If this girl before him was to become his good-sister, she needed to understand that his brother was not like most men. She would not be able to win Jaime over with a smile or a flirtatious word; if she could win him over to begin with.

"I see," she finally said. A wide smile crossed her face, and she began to collect her things. "I thank you for your honesty. It says a lot about a man if his family still defends him, even after pointing out his… flaws. I dare say, my lord, that you have helped me finalize my decision."

"And that decision is?"

She opened the door, turned and smiled at him. "You will find out at tonight's feast, Tyrion."

He had to laugh as she closed the door. If Lydia Stark was to become his good-sister, he might find himself living in his boyhood home once again.


	5. Lydia III

**A/N: **Uggh, these are getting longer. You're going to start expecting things from me.

Anyway, read and review please :3 Feedback makes me happy. Enjoy!

* * *

**Lydia**

_I will do it._

Four little words, and Lydia's fate was sealed. Her father had stared at her for a long time, trying to see if she would take back her words. When she did not, he simply nodded and told her he would tell Robert before the evening's meal. Until then, Lydia was content to walk throughout Winterfell with a little pack of wolves following her.

Maester Luwin had insisted on resuming his lessons with Bran and Rickon, and Prince Tommen had asked to join. Sadly, the young prince was nervous around the direwolf pups, and Lydia had volunteered to take them for the day. Her lady mother and Sansa were showing the Queen and Princess Myrcella the castle grounds, leaving Lady under Lydia's care as well. Nymeria and Grey Wind had joined her pack last, as Arya was practicing her stitches and Robb was training with Prince Joffrey. Luckily, the pups were well behaved, though Shaggydog and Nymeria enjoyed causing mischief every now and again.

"This way," Lydia said, as she turned a corner. Lady, the prettiest and smallest of her siblings, followed without fuss as did Bran's wolf. Lydia took a mental note to help Bran find a name for his pup before the poor thing began to think 'You' was his name. Grey Wind barked at Shaggydog and Nymeria, while Bluebell forcefully directed them down the hall. Though Grey Wind was the largest of his pack, Bluebell was the one who took charge. Nymeria huffed and jogged to catch up, while Shaggydog whined. His whining turned into a growl, and soon he was at Lydia's side.

"Enough!" Lydia hissed, snapping her fingers at the black pup. Shaggy's ears folded back, and he whined at her. "Oh, hush you rude little thing." She turned her attention to what was irritating Shaggy.

Or who.

Ser Jaime stood before her, one golden eyebrow quirked as he stared at the pups. He wore no armour, but his sword was at his side. His hand rested lazily on the hilt. "Brave little beast," he muttered.

"More foolish than brave, my lord," Lydia said. She smiled softly as the little black wolf pressed against her. "But foolery and bravery are two sides of the same coin, are they not?"

Ser Jaime cocked his head to the side, a smirk appearing on his face. "Some say that. Tell me, my lady, where do you plan on taking this small pack of wolves?"

"To the Wolfswood, my lord," Lydia replied. She gestured for the pups to follow her. "You are most welcome to join us," she called over her shoulder. Ser Jaime chuckled, but did not follow. _Just as well, _Lydia thought. After tonight, they would have a great deal of time to get to know one another.

* * *

The pups had frolicked happily for most of the afternoon. Nymeria and Shaggydog had raced around the spruces and pines, yipping and howling as they went. Bran's pup and Lady had stuck by Lydia until Bluebell encouraged them to join her and Grey Wind in chasing the other two. Lydia had watched with a grin, and from the corner of her eye she saw a streak of white. Ghost had followed them at a distance, hesitant to join in, but soon Bluebell and Grey Wind caught his scent. The albino wolf never stood a chance, and before long he too was part of the chasing game. After watching them for a few hours, Lydia had called them back and dropped them off in their respective rooms.

Now she sat in her tub with Nora scrubbing her back, and Bluebell sleeping by the fire. "The King will announce the betrothal tonight?" Nora asked as she rubbed the cloth over Lydia's shoulders.

"Yes," Lydia replied. "I suspect that the Queen already knows, and if the Queen knows…"

"Then Ser Jaime knows," Nora finished. Nora passed the cloth to Lydia, allowing Lydia to continue scrubbing while Nora fetched the scented oils. "At least it will only be a surprise to a few. I can't imagine how one would feel if they suddenly found out they were to be married." She plucked a small vial from a nearby shelf. "The cosmos scent, my lady?"

Lydia nodded. She dragged the cloth along her arms, before wringing the access water from it. Gently, she massaged the cloth against her face as Nora placed a few drops of the cosmos scented oil into her bath. The flowery scent filled her nose, and Lydia sighed in content. In a few hours she would be engaged to the infamous Kingslayer, and then married to him. In a few months she would, hopefully, be carrying his heir, and in a year's time she would present him with a son.

_A son… a child,_ Lydia thought as she closed her eyes. As a noble lady, she was expected to give birth to an heir, and if she was lucky she would give her husband another son. An heir and a spare, as they said. The thought of a child never bothered her, she had helped her mother rear her younger siblings before she left for Highgarden, but knowing she would be holding her own in possibly a year… warmth washed over her. Lydia wondered what her child would look like. Between her siblings, and the Queen's children, Lydia was unsure who her child would take after more. Would she give birth to a son with golden hair and grey eyes? Or perhaps a daughter with red hair and green eyes. Regardless, Lydia knew she would love them, and raise them as her parents raised her.

"You are beginning to wrinkle, my lady," Nora commented. Lydia opened her eyes and glanced at her fingers. They were beginning to prune, which meant her toes probably looked like raisins. Lydia stretched, and stood. The feast would begin in an hour, and she had to look her best.

* * *

_I'm getting quicker at dressing_, Lydia thought as Nora slid the last pearl hairpin into her bun. Her dress, that was a deep blue and had a square neckline decorated with saltwater pearls, had been made in the South but created for the North. The fabric was heavier, keeping the cool air of the North at bay but Lydia knew that it was impractical for long stays outside, especially with the sleeves stopping just above her elbows and then flaring out. She liked the look though, and enjoyed the way the loose fabric flowed with her arms. It made her feel like she had wings. She lifted the skirt, allowing Nora to slip silver slippers onto her feet. "I will miss wearing blue," Lydia commented.

"It was always your colour, my lady," Nora replied as she adjusted Lydia's skirts. "I'm sure the reds and golds of House Lannister will suit you just as well."

Lydia hummed in response, glancing at herself in the mirror. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. There was no turning back now. A knock at her door drew her from her thoughts. "Who is it?"

"You're brother," Robb called.

Lydia smiled and turned. "Well, my lord, I have many brothers. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

She heard his low chuckle, as well as Jon's. "It's your two favourite brothers. May we come in?"

"Of course! Anything for Bran and Rickon," Lydia said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nora smile. Bluebell barked happily as Robb and Jon entered, her tail thumping loudly against the floor. "You're neither Bran nor Rickon! Shoo, both of you."

"Your words wound me greatly, sister," Robb cried. He clutched his heart and began to dramatically weep. Jon grinned as he watched his brother fall onto Lydia's bed, cursing the Gods' for Lydia's cruelty. Bluebell was on her feet and at Robb's side in an instant. The direwolf began to whine and push against Robb, slipping her muzzle between the gap of his crossed arms to fiercely lick at him. Robb yelped and pulled away when Bluebell accidentally licked his ear. "Such a mother this one is."

"So unlike her mistress," Jon said. Lydia shoved him playfully, earning a small laugh from the dark haired man. "Robb has come to escort you to the feast, while I have come to take the pups for a quick walk."

"Will you be joining us after?" Lydia asked.

"Yes, but I'll be sitting with Uncle Benjen," Jon replied.

Lydia smiled slightly, cupping his cheek affectionately. "If there is dancing tonight, will you share one with me?" Jon nodded. "Good, then I will not keep you." Jon gestured for Bluebell to follow, and soon he was gone. "How has he been, Robb?"

"Distant," Robb replied. "I think he's planning on joining the Night's Watch." Lydia sighed and took her brother's arm, letting him lead her to the Great Hall. "I've tried to talk him out of it, but...he doesn't feel like he belongs here. Which is ridiculous in my opinion."

_Is it? You are the heir to Winterfell, and I am the eldest daughter, but what is Jon?_ Lydia thought. She knew there was no changing her brother's mind, the Stark stubbornness was too strong in him, but Lydia hoped that she could convince him to wait. He was only seven and ten, too young in her opinion to be taking life vows. He needed to live before he pledged his life away. "I will talk with him later. I've gotten quite good at convincing people to follow my lead."

"So I've heard," Robb said. He pulled her chair out, before taking his place beside her, waiting for the King and Queen to sit. Lydia watched as King Robert exchanged a few words with her father before he sat. She breathed deeply once again, knowing the King was going to make the announcement. "Is everything alright?"

Lydia looked at Robb with a closed mouth smile, and grabbed his hand. "'Just promise me you won't react," Lydia said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Robb's eyes narrowed. "You said yes."

"I said yes," Lydia muttered with a nod.

The murmur of the crowd ceased as the King and Lord of Winterfell stood. "My Lords and Ladies," Lord Eddard Stark said his voice clear and steady. "The King has made House Stark a promising marriage deal between my eldest daughter, Lydia Stark," Lydia sat up straighter and smiled prettily at the mention of her name. She was the first daughter, the one whose hand had the most value upon it. "And Ser Jaime of House Lannister. The ceremony will take place in a week's time, and I invite all of you to attend it."

"Ser Jaime, Lady Lydia," The King called. The two met before the King, Lydia with her head held high and smiling while Ser Jaime looked positively bored. "Take her hand, Gods damn you."

Ser Jaime clenched his jaw slightly but in the end obeyed his King. Grasping her hand, he held it up for the crowd to see. Lydia curtsied while Jaime bowed, letting the applause of the lords and ladies wash over them. When she rose, her eyes met ones similar to hers. Jon was scowling, and Lydia knew she would face a barrage of questions later on, but for now she played the blushing bride. She glanced at Ser Jaime one more time before returning to her seat.

"But you just got back!" Arya cried from across the table.

"Settle down Arya," Lydia scolded.

The young girl stood, her hands slamming down onto the table with a great thud. "No!" Many turned their attention towards Arya, a few ladies scowling at the young girl. "This isn't fair! You've been gone for four years and now you're going to leave us again?!" She slammed her fist into the table again, causing the cutlery to rattle gently.

Lydia looked sharply at her sister. "Arya, sit down."

Arya bit her lip and gazed downward. "I'm not feeling hungry anymore, may I be excused?"

"No, you may not," Lydia responded. "You will sit here and eat supper, hungry or not."

"You're not Mother!" Arya snapped, her chair screeching against the stone floor as she pushed it away. "I don't have to listen to you." She turned and ran, ignoring the protests of Sansa and Robb.

"Seven hells," Robb muttered as he made to stand.

Lydia grabbed his sleeve. "I'll go." She held her head high as she passed the lords and ladies, ignoring the whispers. Before she reached the door, Jon grabbed her wrist.

"We need to talk," he whispered.

Pulling her wrist from his grasp, Lydia replied, "and we will, but first I need to talk with Arya."

Jon shook his head. "Let me talk to her, you've been gone too long."

Lydia smiled softly. "That's precisely why I'm the one that should talk to her."

Lydia shivered as she exited the Great Hall, wishing she had a cloak with her. Torches lit the walls, though faint streams of moonlight poured through the open windows. Serving maids and guardsmen passed her as she made her way to the armoury. Lydia knew that her sister would not hide in her room, it was too obvious, and the only other place she felt safe was amongst the swords and bows. The armoury door was slightly parted, and Lydia stopped to listen. Sure enough, she heard the faint clunking of wood chips being tossed into the fire. Sighing, Lydia pushed open the door. "You're mad at me."

"Go away," Arya muttered. She chucked a large chip into the fire, small embers leaping into the air and flickering like fireflies.

Lydia sighed and pushed the door close. "I'm sorry." Arya stopped mid throw, and glanced over her shoulder, a deep frown on her face. "I know I'm not Mother, and I had no right to order you around like I did." Lydia moved to sit beside her sister. The small flame in the hearth danced and flickered, occasionally lighting the small clips of woods Arya had tossed in. "And I'm sorry that I did not tell you about my marriage. I didn't know you would feel so strongly about it."

"Of course I feel strongly about it!" Arya retorted. She flung the wooden chip into the hearth, the flames immediately devouring it. "You come home after four years, and now you'll be leaving again to go be that man's wife! It's not fair!" Arya rubbed at her eyes furiously. "I just got you back, and now you're leaving me again."

Lydia's heart broke at her sister's admission. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around the small girl and drew her into a hug. "I'm here now, Arya." She gently ran her fingers through Arya's hair, trying her hardest to sooth her sister.

"They call me Horseface," Arya muttered. "Sansa and her stupid friend Jeyne. Jeyne neighs at me sometimes, and Septa Mordane says I have the hands of a blacksmith because I can't do my stitches nicely. I try, I do! But it's so hard, and boring." She sniffled, and buried her face into Lydia's side. "Jon makes time for me, but I know he has lessons too. It just gets so lonely… I missed you Lydi."

Lydia smiled sadly, and hugged Arya tightly. "I missed you too, Arya."

"It's not fair! You and Sansa do everything perfectly!" Arya said. "There's nothing left for me."

Cupping Arya's face, Lydia gently wiped the tears away from her cheeks. "That's not true. If I remember correctly, you were the best at sums, and you're a quick learner." Pushing Arya's hair from her face, Lydia combed her fingers through the knotted brown hair. "You, my little wolf, are so much more than what you think…and I'm sorry I've been gone for so long."

"Then stay here," Arya said sadly.

Kissing the top of her head, Lydia whispered, "I wish I could Arya…but winter is coming, and I must do what I can to protect my pack."

* * *

They sat together until the fire in the hearth died, and the cold settled in. By the time Lydia escorted her sister to her room, dinner was over, and Lydia's stomach was growling in protest of that fact. Not wanting to venture through the halls of Winterfell alone, Lydia collected Bluebell from her room and proceeded to the kitchens. The halls were empty, save for the night guards and a few maids. Lydia whistled and hummed as she walked through the halls, not caring if anyone heard her. Bluebell rubbed against her as she did, showing her appreciation for her Mistress's voice. Lydia smiled down at her pup. _She's so big,_ Lydia thought. If the myths of the direwolves proved true, Bluebell would grow to be the size of a pony and able to bite through a man's arm. She would be a terrible beast, and would strike fear into the hearts of many. But for now she was a jolly pup that just reached Lydia's knees, and who was content to gnaw on elk bone rather than men.

"A bit late for an evening stroll, is it not?" A voice asked from behind her. "Especially without an escort."

"I was unaware I needed one, ser," Lydia replied, turning to face her betrothed. "Are you volunteering?"

Ser Jaime chuckled a bit. "I suppose I am," he said. He ran his hand through his hair, and smirked. "Where shall we go, my lady?"

"The kitchens," Lydia directed. "Both Bluebell and I have missed our dinners." Bluebell yipped happily at the word 'dinner', her tail thumping hard against Lydia's leg, causing her to wince.

"Strong little beast," Jaime commented as he followed her to the kitchens. "One would think a dog would be more practical to give to children."

"I admit, giving Rickon a direwolf may have not been the best of ideas, but many houses have living versions of their sigils" She knocked on the kitchen door and announced her presence. A cook greeted them as they entered, and gestured to the assortment of leftovers. Bluebell sniffed at the air and her tail resumed its vigorous wagging. "House Arryn has their hawks, House Tyrell has their roses, the Freys have their castle, and so on."

"True enough. Father did have a pair of lions when I was a boy," Jaime admitted, watching Lydia as she made up her plate. "Handsome creatures, but they didn't live long. Hopefully your living sigil lives longer than they did."

"She will. Sit," Lydia instructed. Bluebell sat, and watched as her Mistress began to eat. She whined slightly, but stopped when Lydia gave her a sharp look. "Won't you sit as well, my lord?" Ser Jaime hesitated, his eyes darting to the cooks and maids, but he sat nonetheless. _What plagues you, Ser Jaime?_ Lydia thought as she chewed. "Tell my, my lord, why were you wandering the halls?"

"Couldn't sleep," Jaime said. "I thought a stroll would help, and that's when I stumbled upon you and your wolf." He looked at Bluebell cautiously, as if mentioning the pup would send it into a rampage. Bluebell cocked her head at the knight, her blue eyes watching him with curiosity. She stood suddenly, padded over to him and shoved her muzzle onto his lap.

Lydia giggled. "I believe she wants you to pet her, my lord." Carefully, Jaime patted the top of Bluebell's head. She wagged her tail in happiness, and nuzzled against his hand. "I think she likes you."

A very small smile appeared on the knight's face, and Lydia felt her heart flutter at the sight.


	6. Jaime

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, favs, follows and just reading my story! My freaking excited that I'm close to 100 follows!

Anywho, there's smut at the end of this chapter (which is why it's so freaking long), so if you want to skip it, you'll know when to, I promise.

* * *

**Jaime**

Jaime was tired. He was tired of the King with his _wit_, tired of his sister and her scathing looks, tired of Tyrion with his sarcasm and mocking advice. Most of all he was tired of Winterfell. There was nothing to do, and nothing to look at. A canvas of grey as far as the eye could see, dotted with people that might as well have been statues.

And they expected him to have his wedding here.

_Marriage_, Jaime thought bitterly as he glared at the stone ceiling of his bedroom. He never wanted this. He never wanted Casterly Rock, or a wife, or children. If he had a choice, he would be far away. Away from the lies, and false faces. Away from the forced pleasantries, and sickening laughter. _Far away where no one would know who I was. Far enough where I could finally be with Cersei._

"We are not the Targaryans!" Cersei had told him one night after a hasty fucking. "Why aren't you content with just being with me? Why do you want more?"

_Because I'm sick of hiding in the shadows._

Jaime had wanted to say that. He wanted to tell her to run away with him, to cross the Narrow Sea and start a new life with him. He held his tongue though. He knew Cersei, and he knew she wouldn't abandon her children, her _Joffrey_, not for him. Not for anyone really. He loved and hated her for that.

Now he was expected to marry Ned Stark's eldest daughter, and become Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West. Kingslayer, man with no honour, and now future Warden of the West...if there were Gods they must have been laughing at his fate. Jaime had to smile at the fact that the only one who was more upset about this arrangement was Ned Stark. The man looked as grim as the gargoyles that stood on his towers when he announced the betrothal of his daughter.

Lydia Stark, soon to be Lady Lydia Lannister. Gods that was a mouthful.

She was comely, that was for certain, but there was something not quite right about her. Her expressions were too practiced, too fixed. Jaime wondered if there was anything genuine about his soon to be wife or if there was nothing but practiced courtesies and lady-like responses in that pretty head of hers. If that was all there was to her, than the remaining years of his life were going to be agonising.

Jaime groaned. His head was beginning to ache. He rose from his bed and stripped out of his nightwear. Today was the day of his wedding, and he had been invited to breakfast with his soon-to-be wife and her family. Jaime smirked at the thought of Ned Stark's grim face, and his equally grim heir. At least he would get some form of entertainment.

* * *

"Rickon, sit in your seat," Catelyn Stark instructed. Jaime watched in amusement as the youngest Stark child huffed and continued to squirm his way onto Lydia's lap. The redhead giggled and picked up her brother, kissing the top of his head. "Rickon," Catelyn sighed, shaking her head. Despite her exasperation, there was a smile on her face.

"It's alright, mother. I haven't held him since he was a babe," Lydia assured as she handed Rickon a piece of bread. "I'm four years behind on hugs and kisses." She brushed a strand of hair away from the boy's face, before reaching for a blood orange. Jaime handed her one, earning a smile from his betrothed and a scowl from her brother. "Thank you, my lord."

"You're welcome," To his left, the youngest girl sat beside her mother, glowering at him. It would seem every other Stark disliked him. He smirked at the young girl, causing her to scowl and go back to poking at her food.

"Ser Jaime, if I may ask you a question," Lydia's pretty little red haired sister said. Jaime was starting to wonder if the Starks were all just one-trick ponies. They were either hostile towards him, or extremely polite. The little redhead took his silence as consent, and continued with her question. "Will you and Lydia be traveling to King's Landing with the King, or will you journey to Casterly Rock?"

Jaime propped his head against his head, and gazed at the third child. There was nothing but Tully in this girl, and Jaime was suddenly reminded of when he almost married her Aunt Lysa. Hopefully time treated her better than it did her aunt. "Unless ordered otherwise, I imagine we'll head straight to Casterly Rock. Most likely we'll part ways at the Trident."

"Then that should take you past Riverrun, yes?" Jaime nodded. The girl smiled prettily and turned her attention to her sister. "Perhaps you'll see grandfather and Uncle Edmure and Uncle Bryden."

Lydia smiled gently. "That would be nice. I haven't seen them since I left for Highgarden. Maybe if time permits, I'll be able to visit them briefly."

"If you truly want to visit your uncles and grandfather, we'll find time," Jaime commented, reaching for his cup. "My lord father has waited seven and ten years for his heir, a few days will hardly bother him." He took a sip at his ale, enjoying its sweetness. If he had to compliment the North, he would have to give his compliments to their alcohol. "Besides, we'll have to rest somewhere, and I'm sure you would prefer a castle to a tent."

"That's very kind of you, my lord," Lydia replied.

"Yes. Quite kind, indeed," Ned repeated.

_So the wolf lord speaks at last,_ Jaime thought. "Anything to make the journey more comfortable for my soon to be wife," Jaime said, smirking at his future good-father. Ned's jaw clenched, and his gaze hardened.

"Rickon don't wipe-" Lydia sighed as her brother ran his hands over her dress. "Your hands on me. Ah, you little monkey!" She squeezed him and kissed his cheek, causing the boy to laugh and squirm in her arms. "If you would excuse me, I have to change, and you're coming with me." She placed the boy on the floor and followed as he ran out of the room. Jaime watched in mild amusement as the duo departed. Her relationship with her youngest brother reminded him of when he and Tyrion were boys; with Jaime following as Tyrion lead the way. Perhaps that was why Tyrion spoke fondly of the Lady Lydia; he saw the same thing as Jaime did.

The silence that followed Lydia's exit was deafening. Jaime turned his gaze away from the door, and back to the Starks. Lord Eddard sat straight in his chair; hands folded neatly in front of him, and gazed at Jaime with a coldness he had never known. His heir was mimicking his father, though his gaze was not as steady as Lord Eddard's. Lady Catelyn's eyes darted between her lord husband and Jaime, unsure if she should break the rising tension. Jaime smirked and stood. "Thank you, Lady Catelyn, for inviting me to breakfast. If you would excuse me, I have to prepare for tonight."

"Of course, Ser Jaime. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," Catelyn said with a small smile. Jaime nodded, and sneered when he saw Ned Stark's jaw clench. _Careful Ned, keep grinding your teeth like that and we'll have to start calling you Stannis_.

Jaime made his way back to his quarters. It was less than likely that anyone would be in the yard, leaving Jaime hours of free time and nothing to do with it. The familiar scent of lavender greeted him as he entered his room. "Sister," Jaime acknowledged. She was dressed in green, bringing out the sharpness in her eyes. Her golden hair was piled on top of her head, and in her hand was a goblet of wine. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her wine, refusing to move from her place at the table. _Her drinking is becoming more frequent_, Jaime thought as he took the seat next to her. "What brings you to my chambers?"

She took another sip of her wine, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows as she gazed at him. "How was breaking your fast with the wolves?"

"Is that all you came here for?" Jaime asked. "If you must know, it was boring and tense. Ned Stark is going to grind his teeth flat by the time we leave, and his heir's face is going to be stuck in a permanent scowl. Speaking of scowl," he rubbed his thumb between his sister's eyebrows, trying to smooth away the crease that was becoming more prominent every day. "You should try to relax." Cersei scoffed and slapped away his hand. Jaime chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I assume there's more to your visit than asking me how my breakfast was."

Pleasure shot through Jaime as Cersei looked at him. "My husband is going on a hunt today. To 'bring a beast worthy of this marriage' as he said. Everyone else is busy with the wedding," she said. Lowering her wine glass, Cersei smiled. "We fucked on my wedding day. It would be only fair that we do the same on yours."

"And I'm all for being fair, sweet sister."

* * *

Jaime ran a hand over his face, making sure he did not miss a spot whilst shaving. Satisfied, Jaime grabbed his undershirt. His wedding was to happen in an hour, followed by a feast then the bedding. He was relieved to learn that the Southern customs of the guests stripping the bride and groom before their bedding was optional rather than a tradition. Last thing he needed was some Northern girl groping at him.

He buttoned his red doublet, leaving the top two open before pulling on his red leather jerkin. The ceremony was to be held outside in front of the Heart Tree with a Septon reading the marriage vows, in order to blend the ways of the Old and New together. He glanced at the cloak on his bed. The roaring, golden lion of his house against blood red fabric, framed with intricate golden embroidery. In an hour he would drape it upon Ned Stark's daughter, taking her under his protection in front of the Gods and men. A lion protecting a wolf; Jaime snorted at the thought. _And who will protect the lion from the wolf,_ Jaime thought. He knew the rumours about Lydia Stark, both the good and the bad.

She was a protégé of the Queen of Thorns, both her and the Lady Margaery had charmed their way through the Reach. There were never any rumours that questioned her virtue, but there were ones that claimed her to be that of a siren. A sweet word from her would lead a man to his doom. Jaime did not doubt those rumours. She was a charming little thing, with a pretty face and a young body. Any man could be fooled by her but Jaime was not any man. Regardless, he was curious about the girl beneath the well-developed mask. Perhaps that's why he had gone out of his way to seek her out during the past week, to see if the mask would slip. But it hadn't, and Jaime knew he would spend his marriage trying to rip off Lady Lydia's façade.

Grabbing the cloak, Jaime folded it neatly and draped it across his arm. It was time.

* * *

The Heart Tree was disturbing in Jaime's opinion. Its bark was an unnatural white, and its leaves were too similar to drops of blood for his liking but what perturbed him was the face that was carved into the trunk. Its eyes were slits with red sap bleeding from them, and a large gaping hole to represented the mouth. It was if the tree was screaming at him to leave. He wasn't the only one that was unsettled by the eeriness of the Godswoods. Everyone who had come North with the King seemed uncomfortable; even the Lady Catelyn was fidgeting. _Let's get this damn thing over with_, Jaime thought as he readjusted the cloak for the umpteenth time.

The murmuring of the crowd ceased when Lord Stark entered the Godswood with his daughter. Jaime's eyes widened slightly as the sight of her. Her gown was a dark blue, and when she moved the skirt twinkled like stars. Silver embroidery covered her bodice, and falling from her shoulders was a thin, silver material that had matching embroidery. Half of her hair was twisted into a bun, while the rest curled past her shoulders. He could not tell if she was wearing makeup, but he did know that his mouth had become very dry.

The wolf Lord stared at Jaime sternly as he gave his daughter hand. He looked like he wanted to say something, a threat perhaps, but Lord Stark simple nodded and took his place beside his wife. The girl's hand was warm in his, a sharp contrast to the cold Northern air.

The Septon smiled and raised his hands. "My lords and ladies," he turned to the royals and bowed his head. "My King, my Queen. We are gathered here today to bear witness to the union between Ser Jaime Lannister, and Lady Lydia Stark. Ser Jaime, if you would place your cloak upon Lady Lydia." Lydia turned her back to Jaime, allowing him to lay his house cloak across and over her shoulder. He pulled it forward when she turned back to face him, admiring the way the gold brought out the blond in her hair. "The cloak represents the vow a man must make to his betrothed. To always honour and protect her while they both draw breath. For the woman, it represents a new life, and a new commitment. From now on she will bear her husband's name, and bring honour to his House." Gesturing them to take hands once more, the Septon tied their hands together with a golden ribbon that had silver stitching. "The ribbon binds these two souls in the eyes of both the Old and New. My lord, my lady."

Jaime stared into grey eyes, and felt nothing as he said his vows with her. "By the Old Gods and the New, I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days."

The Septon held his hands high. "By their blessings, I now introduce the new Lord and Lady Lannister. My Lord, you may kiss the bride to seal your union."

The kiss was quick, the barest of touches before Jaime pulled away. His wife hadn't even closed her eyes. Raising their still entwined hands, Jaime listened in boredom as the crowd faked their glee. He dared a glance at his sister. Her face showed nothing, but he could see a trace of betrayal in her eyes. Jaime understood that feeling. He had felt it so many years ago when she wed Robert Baratheon. The Gods were truly laughing at him.

"Thank the Gods this is done with!" Robert bellowed. "Let's feast!"

* * *

The gifts were brought after the food had been placed before them. Robert had kept his word for once, and a great elk was served to him, his new-wife and the royal family. The gifts were standard; weapons, coin, jewels, furs, though the youngest Stark had presented his wife with a crude drawing of her and him. Jaime heard Joffrey snicker at that, but Lydia had either ignored him or did not hear for she gave no reaction. She had simply drawn her brother into a hug and stated that she loved it. Jaime had a feeling that she actually did. The eldest brother and the bastard had given her an assortment of paints and a small stack of empty books.

"We had Luwin special order them from Braavos," the boy had said as he handed them to her. "We even succeeded in finding that yellow you couldn't stop writing about. Luwin even managed to convince the Maester in Braavos to let you have a sample of his new invention." He opened a long, narrow container, showing the coloured sticks. "Apparently, you draw with them and when you brush water across the mark it looks like paint. Luwin thought that if anyone could bring out the full potential of this invention, it would be you."

Jaime had been surprised at the wide smile on Lydia's face. "Thank you Robb. I will take great care of them." She had stood to pull her brother into a tight hug, and Jaime heard the mutterings of a brief exchange. As soon as she had released her brother, she turned to her father's bastard. "And what of you Jon? What are you going to give your sister on her wedding day?"

"Are the paints not enough? You were always the greedy one," the dark haired boy chuckled. "My gift to you is…to listen to your advice."

Lydia giggled and hugged him. "Good. I give great advice."

"That's a lie," Robb stated. "I distinctly remember spraining my wrist because of your _advice_."

"That's not the way father remembers it," Lydia replied with a sly grin. "Go feast for now. I'll be expecting to dance with each of you later tonight." She took her place by Jaime's side once more, popping a small piece of meat into her mouth before greeting the next gift giver.

"What advice did you give your father's bastard?" Jaime asked in between gifts.

Lydia smiled and thanked another lord for their wedding gift. "I told my brother to live for a bit more," Lydia replied. "He planned on leaving with my uncle to join the Night's Watch. I persuaded him to wait for a bit longer. Seven and ten is too young, in my opinion, to make lifelong vows."

_Is it? I was younger when I swore myself to the Kingsguard,_Jaime thought. He had given up his inheritance for love, and in the end he did not regret it. "Perhaps you're right, my lady."

They had shared a dance, and then his little wife was spun away from him by her father, then her brothers. He had retired from the floor, content to sit back and watch his little wife be spun about like a child's toy. Jaime had sipped at his mead, ignoring Robert's voice and Cersei's foul mood. In less than an hour his little wife would retire to their chamber, arranged a bit further from the guest chambers to give them privacy and he would have to follow moments later. Jaime wondered how she would react in bed. Would she lay still and close her eyes, praying to her Gods for it to be over or would she weep and shy away. He doubted that the girl knew anything about the marriage bed.

Not like Cersei with her knowing touches and breathless voice as she demanded more. His back throbbed at the thought of his lover across his bed, her faint love marks sending heat throughout his skin. He dared to look at Cersei, but her attention was elsewhere. He followed her gaze, and was met by Lydia leaving the hall. _So it begins_, Jaime thought, downing the last of his mead.

"It seems your wife has retired for the evening," Tyrion noted as he sat down.

"As sharp as ever, brother," Jaime replied. He would follow after two songs, giving her time to prepare. "Tell me, what else have those eyes of yours seen?"

"You're very tense for a man that's about to bed a pretty virgin," Tyrion said, taking a sip of his wine. "If you must know; the Greyjoy boy is quite enamored with your wife, though her brothers interrupted him before he got too handsie. Great Jon and Smalljon have the grace of an ox, but the Lady Lydia danced with them all the same. Joffrey danced with her too, but I believe our dear sister has influenced his opinion on his new aunt, though I think your wife will charm him in the end. Myrcella and Tommen have taken a shining to her though, and I think Myrcella is smitten with Robb Stark. The King snagged a dance but Lord Eddard cut in before he took too many liberties. That's what my eyes have seen."

Jaime looked at his brother with a grin. "Why are you not training to be a Maester again?"

"Brown is not my colour, and those chains are a bit tacky."

Jaime laughed. "Excuse me, but I'm off to bed my wife before the King starts hollering about it." Jaime did not dare look at Cersei as he left.

* * *

Maids and servers scurried about, and a few guardsmen patrolled the halls, all giving Jaime a passing glance as he walked by. As the people in the hallway lessened, so did the clothing on Jaime. He had been surprisingly warm in the Great Hall, and for once the chilled air of the North was a welcome thing. He carried his jerkin in one hand while the other pulled at the laces of his doublet. A brown haired maid passed him as he neared his wedding chambers, carrying his wife's wedding dress. _Her handmaiden no doubt_, Jaime thought as he knocked on the door.

"Come in, my lord."

Jaime would be a liar if he said he felt nothing when he saw her. All her carefully planned perfection had been stripped away, leaving her in nothing but a loose, white nightgown with her red hair unbound and flowing past her breasts. If he looked carefully, he could see the outline of her body, her _maiden _body. _No one else will see her like this_, Jaime thought. He wouldn't need to share her, to keep her secret. Lydia Lannister was his to touch, his to kiss, and only his to fuck. Arousal and guilt pulsed through his veins.

"Would you like a glass of wine, my lord?" Lydia asked. She tilted her head slightly, the curls of her hair falling off her shoulder.

"No, I think I'm done with wine for the evening," Jaime replied. A silence fell between, neither knowing how to approach the other.

Lifting her head, Lydia looked at him with a confidence that rivaled Cersei's. "Would you like me to help you undress?" Jaime smirked and nodded. Quickly, she was in front of him, pulling at the last of his doublet's laces. Dropping his jerkin, he allowed her to slip off his doublet. She held it in front of her like a shield, her grey eyes darting around his chest.

"Your first time seeing a man without his shirt?"

She shook her head. "No," she replied, her voice cracking. "It just surprises me every time. It's like opening a new book."

Jaime chuckled. "How is a shirtless man like a book?"

"The clothes are like the cover of a book. They give some clue as to what lies in it but it's not until you open the book do you see the true story," Lydia explained. Jaime cocked his head, and raised an eyebrow. "Your scars for instance, they have their own stories. Some are from swords, others daggers, I think that one might be from an arrow," she gestured to the faint scar on his shoulder. "Your muscles state that you are a well-trained knight, and your… body hair shows me that you are indeed a man grown." She looked away, and Jaime smiled.

Pulling his shirt from her hold, Jaime grasped her wrist. "Well, my lady, would you like to touch your book." He saw her twitch, but she turned to face him. Curiosity danced in her grey eyes, and she slowly pushed her hand against the muscles of his stomach. Her fingers danced across his skin, tracing old scars and hard-earned muscle. Jaime followed the length of her arm, calloused fingertips barely touching skin. She twitched as he approached the nape of her neck, and shied slightly when his fingers ghosted over the shell of her ear. Cupping her face, Jaime pulled her into a kiss.

He was surprised to feel her respond so quickly. Small, soft hands clutched his shoulders; the barest hint of a moan was heard as he deepened his kiss. Jaime pulled back to look at Lydia. A pretty little blush had formed, making the freckles that were sprinkled across her nose and cheeks more prominent. He kissed her again, pushing her back into the bed. Her hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer and her legs parted, allowing him to slip between them. Jaime groaned, the blood rushing to his cock. _Forgive me Cersei,_ Jaime thought. This was nothing, just duty rather than passion.

"My lord," Lydia whispered as she pulled away. "Would you be more comfortable if we were further in the bed?"

Jaime huffed, a small smile breaking across his lips. "It isn't my comfort you should be fretting about, girl." He pulled away though, allowing her to retreat to the middle of the bed while he removed the rest of his clothing. She looked away as he slipped off his small clothes, and Jaime smirked. "Never seen a cock before?"

"Only when I was bathing my baby brother," she responded. Jaime laughed and crawled onto the bed. He grabbed her ankle, and dragged her towards him.

"I imagine mine to be quite different." He drew up her gown, finding cream coloured thighs and pretty grey smallclothes. She made a small noise as he caressed her through her underwear. "Relax. I'm trying to make this as painless as possible." Lydia nodded, parting her legs a bit further. Jaime smirked, stroking himself as he rubbed her. He slipped his fingers beneath her smallclothes, feeling the soft hairs of her cunt before hooking his fingers around her smallclothes and pulling them off. She shifted and looked away. Jaime sighed, and leaned down to kiss and nip at her neck. "Trust me little red-wolf, it will sting but I will not make it like the horror stories you maidens always hear."

"Will I bleed?"

"A little, but I'm sure you've seen more from your moon's blood." His fingers slid back between her thighs and rubbed her through her folds, occasionally circling the hardening nub that was hidden. She began to rock, her breathing coming out in bursts. "That's right, little red-wolf." He slipped a finger into her, reveling at the warmth and tightness. She made a sound of discomfort, which quickly turned into a gasp as Jaime nipped at her ear. He slipped a second finger, than a third, into her, pumping and stretching her all while rubbing her sensitive pearl. Lydia whimpered and sighed, hands clutching the sheets of their bed as Jaime brought her closer to bliss. He stopped as she relaxed, and rubbed the head of his cock against her opening, causing her to turn and look at him.

"My lord?" Lydia whispered. Jaime groaned and kissed her, all while pushing his cock into her. She was warm, and wet, and snug, her body unused to be stretched in such a way. She whimpered against his lips, and Jaime pulled back to nip and kiss at her jaw, breathing deeply as she clenched around him. He drew a bit out, before pushing back in slowly, rocking against her gently. "Oh…" Her hands found their way to his back, fingertips pressing into his skin. "Oh Gods." Jaime grinned against her neck, drawing her legs higher upon his waist as he increased his rocking. Lydia's breathing quickened, the occasional moan slipping past her lips. Jaime slid a hand between their bodies, determined to make her cum before he did. Lydia yelped, her hips jumping at the sudden contact. "Oh Gods!" Her fingers pressed hard into his back as she curled towards him, her forehead touching his shoulder as he continued to caress her. "I-I"

Jaime drew her head back and kissed her hard. She cried out at she came, her voice smothered by his mouth. Jaime groaned as she clenched around him, the sensation brining him close to his finish. He pulled away and buried his face into her neck, taking in the scent of some flower as he spilled himself inside of her.

Only their laboured breathing was heard, and Jaime was glad for it. He was never one for small talk. He pulled away after he softened, letting the sweat on his body cool. "That was not as painful as I was expecting," Lydia stated.

Jaime grinned, and his body shook as he chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it." Another moment of silence passed, and soon the guilt of betraying Cersei settled in his stomach. Sighing, Jaime pulled the covers of their bed up. He would deal with it in the morrow.


	7. Lydia IV

**A/N: **Happy Sunday everyone! As always, thank you for the favs, follows and reviews!

Read, review and enjoy!

* * *

**Lydia**

She sat before the Heart Tree, giving her respects to the Old as best as she could. Two days had passed since her wedding, and today she would be leaving the North to live in the South, permanently. _Watch over my family when I cannot. Keep my siblings safe and my father and mother healthy._ Lydia touched the pale wood of the Heart Tree, and bowed her head. She was suddenly aware of the stillness of the Godswood, and her skin prickled in fear. Raising her head, she glanced past the Heart Tree and met with dark eyes. Lydia's breath caught in her throat, her hand slowly lowering to her lap.

Two men stood a fair distance from where she sat, watching her with daggers in their hands. They were clothed in boiled leather, and stained fur, with unkempt hair and one of them had a thick, knotted beard. _Wildings,_ Lydia thought as she shifted to her feet. She knew she could not out run them, but she had to risk it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, girl," the one with the beard barked. His dark hair was knotted into a thick, curly ponytail that fell past his broad shoulders. He raised his dagger and gestured for her to stand. "You're gonna come here and you're gonna keep that mouth of yours shut."

Lydia held her ground. They would have to come to her, for neither had a bow that she could see. "And why should I do that?" The smaller, lankier one twirled his dagger. "Who are you?"

"Shut it!" The first one barked. "We're not important, you are. Your Stark's brat, and that's all that matters. Now shut your fucking mouth and get over here or I'll cut that tongue out of your pretty mouth."

Lydia bristled. "Are you threatening me?" She stood then, her head held high and her shoulders lowered with murder in her eyes. "If you know who I am, than you know threatening me is the stupidest decision you have ever made." She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled, the sound cutting through the forest like a knife. The larger man cursed and rushed at her. Lydia cried out in surprise and turned to run, but she was not quick enough. He grabbed her by the collar of her coat and forcefully spun her back, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted at her.

"Who'd you fucking call?!" Lydia growled and spat in his face. "You fucking bitch!" He threw her down hard, knocking the breath from her lungs, and pinned her down with his knees. "I'll fucking teach you." Lydia screamed in rage, hands flying to the wilding man's face. She dug her nails into his brow, dragging them across his forehead and cheeks before jabbing him in the eyes with her thumbs. The man yelled in pain, shoving one of her hands away. His eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears when he looked at her. He said nothing as he slapped Lydia across the face. Lydia cried out in pain, but her cry soon warped into another scream of rage. She lurched forward, intending to head-butt the wilding. He laughed and slammed her back into the ground. "I'm going to cut your fucking hands off and fuck that mouth of yours before I bring ya to Mance." Lydia bucked her hips, trying to throw the man off.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_. A low, menacing, growl echoed through the forest. Lydia heard the second man swear. Looking past the wilding on top of her, Lydia began to laugh. "Good girl!" The wilding looked behind and swore. He threw himself off of Lydia, and crawled backwards, his eyes trained on the slow approaching direwolf. Bluebell growled again, her ears pressed firmly against her head while the hair of the scruff of her neck rose with every step. She snapped her teeth at the wilding, letting out a viscous snarl.

"Shoot it! Fucking shoot it!" An arrow flew from a nearby tree, embedding itself into the ground near Bluebell's feet. Bluebell jumped, her attention torn from her Mistress for a moment. It was all the wilding need, and he grabbed Lydia by the arm. "Fucking kill the beast, I've got th-" The wilding screamed suddenly, letting go to Lydia's arm to grabbed at his wrist. A sword was embedded into his hand, cleaving it in half. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

"How dare you," her husband said. "My mother was a wonderful woman. Do you even know what a woman is? Probably not." He withdrew his sword and kicked the man away. "You look more like a pig fucker." The man made to curse at Jaime, but a sword through his throat stopped him. "I take your silence as a yes." He withdrew his sword, and glanced down at Lydia. "Are you alright?"

"There's a wilding in one of the trees," Lydia exclaimed.

"Not anymore!" Theon called. He pulled his arrow from the wilding's shoulder, whose neck had broken from the fall. "Poor bastard. Didn't even see me before he fell out of the tree. Quick death though." Theon wiped the head of his arrow across the dead man's fur and slid it back into his quiver. "Have you've got the other one, Robb?"

"Yes," Robb called back, hauling the small one to his feet. "I'm bringing her to father. He'll want to know how wildings got past the Night's Watch, and into Winterfell."

"This one mentioned Mance Ryder," Lydia yelled as Jaime helped her to her feet. "Be sure to mention that to father."

"Aye," Robb said as he pushed the wilding woman along.

Lydia looked at the wilding as she passed. With her wild hair and loose clothing she really did look like a man at a distance. _Hopefully father is a bit merciful_, she thought. Bluebell growled at the wilding before retreating to her Mistress's side. Whining, she pushed her head against Lydia's thigh. "I'm alright, Blue."

"Not quite," Jaime said, gently touching where the wilding man had struck her. Lydia hissed and slapped his hand away. "Hey now, I'm just trying to see if there's any broken skin." Lydia sighed, and turned her injured cheek towards him. She flinched as his fingers skimmed over the injured area. "There's no cut, but you'll have a nasty bruise later. Though," Jaime glanced at the dead man and smirked. "Considering what you did to him, it could have been a lot worse for you." Lydia glanced at the dead man. Blood had formed from where she scratched him, and she smiled bitterly.

"Are you going to tell me that I should have just laid there?"

"No," Jaime said, staring at her sharply. "I would have done the same." He withdrew a handkerchief from his coat and dipped it into the pond. Wringing it, he pressed it gently to the side of her face. The coolness of the cloth felt wonderful against her heated cheek, causing her to moan softly and lean against Jaime's hand.

"Thank you for saving me, my lord," Lydia whispered after a moment.

"Thank your little wolf," Jaime said. He withdrew the cloth, and dipped it into the pond once more. "She barked at your brother and I until we followed. Never heard a bark quite as loud and demanding. I believe she scared poor Tommen." Bluebell yipped and pushed her head against Jaime's leg, her bushy tail wagging happily. Jaime chuckled and handed Lydia the cool, damp cloth. "Come, my lady. We have a long trip ahead of us."

* * *

Her mother had fretted over her, insisting that Maester Luwin examined her before they left. Luwin had come to the same conclusions as Jaime, and handed her a small container of paste to speed up the healing process. Her father had told her that he would send a letter if the wilding women told them anything of interest. "And after?" Lydia had asked.

"If she is not an immediate danger, I will put her to work," her father had stated. "She has crossed the Wall for a better life, and I will not end hers because she was associated with less than noble characters."

Lydia's goodbyes had been bittersweet. She had hugged her siblings tightly, and promised to write as soon as she could. Arya had held on the longest, asking Lydia to visit as soon as she could with tears brimming on the edges of her eyes. Her mother embraced her and whispered how proud she was, while her father had kissed her on the forehead. "Be brave, pup." Her girlhood nickname had struck deeper than it should have, and Lydia forced herself to smile, despite the ache in her jaw.

"I will, Father."

She had ridden out, with Nora on her right and Bluebell at her left. Lydia kept her head held high, and her face even. She was the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark, and now the Lady of Casterly Rock. It would not be appropriate for her to cry. "I've never been to Casterly Rock, my lady," Nora said, drawing her mare as close as she could. "Do you think it's similar to the Highgarden?"

"Casterly Rock is on top of a cliff, I believe," Lydia replied. "If I'm correct, there are more mountain ranges than in the Reach."

"You would be correct, my lady," Tyrion commented as he approached Nora's mare.

"Lord Tyrion, just the man I was hoping to speak too," Lydia said. "Nora, this is Lord Tyrion, my new good-brother. Lord Tyrion, this is Nora my dear friend and handmaiden."

"Pleased to meet you, my lord," Nora greeted, bowing her head slightly.

"And you. I thought we were done with the formalities, Lydia. You are my brother's wife now, which means you're family," Tyrion said. "And I don't believe family addresses each other as lord and lady."

Lydia smiled at that, though her aching cheek protested at the action. "Forgive me, Tyrion. I must have forgotten after my rough morning."

"I had heard about that. How are you feeling?"

"As well as anyone who was slapped." Lydia touched the bruise that had formed in the past hour. "Though my vanity would tell you I am feeling rather horrid."

Tyrion chuckled. "Well Lydia, perhaps stories of the Rock will improve your well-being."

* * *

Almost three weeks had passed by the time the royal company reached the Forks. The Queen's carriage had gotten stuck in the mud one too many times for Lydia's likening, but she had bit her tongue. If the Queen was happy, everyone was happy. However, as they approached the Forks, Lydia had noticed that the Queen had become more irritable, as did Ser Jaime. Lydia had seen them exchange heated words before Queen Cersei walked away. Lydia had mentioned the twins rising temperaments to Tyrion, who simply shrugged and stated the journey was making everyone a bit temperamental.

That was a lie though. The only ones who seemed content with the journey were Sweet Boy and Bluebell, who were getting along wonderfully. The other horses had shied away from the growing wolf, but Sweet Boy had simply sniffed and huffed at Bluebell. The two beasts had formed a friendship of sorts, with Bluebell splitting her time between Lydia's bed and Sweet Boy's side. The whole situation was quite queer to Lydia, but stranger events had happened.

"My Lady Lannister," a man a few years her senior greeted. "The King and Queen would like you to join them for supper."

The man was handsome, though his face still had the softness of youth. From his light brown hair and green eyes, Lydia knew him to be from the Rock. "Thank you, ser…"

"Rodrick of House Clifton, my lady. I am, no knight however."

Closing her sketch book, Lydia straightened her dress as she stood. "Nonetheless, I thank you, Rodrick." Lydia smiled prettily, and felt a little joy when Rodrick's face began to redden. He nodded stiffly, and gestured her to follow.

The King and Queen, and their children had taken all the available rooms in the inn, leaving the rest of the company to stake tents. Lydia did not mind. She knew the King would most likely have company during the evening, and hearing the grunts and groans of Robert along with the cries and moans of some whore was less than appealing to her. She much preferred the gently huffing of the horses, and frequent chirps of crickets. "My King, my Queen. The Lady Lydia," Rodrick announced. He bowed sharply and left, leaving Lydia to take in the scene.

The King sat at the head of the table, with Queen Cersei to his right and Ser Jaime to his left. Beside Queen Cersei were Prince Joffrey and Princess Myrcella, with Prince Tommen sitting across from the Princess and to the left of Tyrion. Smiling, Lydia took her place between Jaime and Tyrion. "We were wondering where you were, girl," King Robert said. Serving girls appeared and began to lay food throughout the table. Nearby was a scrawny blonde boy holding a pitcher of wine.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I was drawing and did not realise that supper was approaching," Lydia replied, while placing her napkin in her lap.

"Heh, drawing! And what were you drawing?"

"My direwolf, Your Grace. She won't be a pup for long, and I would like a reminder of when she was small."

The Queen shook her head. "A direwolf for a pet. What was Ned Stark thinking?"

"Oh shut it, woman. It's none of your damn business what Ned gives or doesn't give to his children," Robert snapped. He took a swig of his wine before holding out to the wine bearer, who quickly refilled it. "If anything, it should make our children jealous. What say you Tommen? You want a direwolf or a lion for a pet?"

"Not really, Father," Prince Tommen replied. "Lady Lydia's direwolf frightens me."

"The beast is barely bigger than a dog," Prince Joffrey stated. "Quite being such a craven."

Prince Tommen shrunk a little, and Lydia felt pity for the young boy. He was a timid lad, who was probably content to read and daydream, rather than sword fight, unlike his older brother. "Bluebell is merely an oversized kitten, my prince," Lydia said. "Perhaps, after supper, you would like to meet her? I'm positive you'll love her once you officially meet her."

Prince Tommen looked at his plate, pushing a pile of peas away from his beets. "I do like kittens," he said after a moment.

Lydia smiled. "Excellent! Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, would you care to join us?"

"No, thank you," Prince Joffrey stated, not bothering to spare a glance at Lydia.

"I would love too!" Princess Myrcella replied with a lovely smile. "Is it alright, Mother?"

The Queen glanced at her daughter, and then turned her eyes towards Lydia. Queen Cersei's green eyes were heated, and for a moment Lydia thought she was going to deny her daughter's request. "As long as your Uncle Jaime escorts you back," she said after a moment. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen exchanged happy looks, but Lydia was more interested in the look that passed between the Queen and her twin.

_Curious,_ Lydia thought. She filed the tidbit of information way, a small voice telling her it would be come useful later.

* * *

Ser Barristan had to escort the King to his room after supper. King Robert had drank throughout the entire meal, and gotten progressively louder with each cup. By the end, Lydia was surprised the King had not fallen asleep at the table. Prince Joffrey and the Queen had retired for the evening, with the Queen telling her youngest to not stay up late playing with the wolf.

"Lady Lydia, may we call you Aunt?" Princess Myrcella asked as she followed Lydia. "We only have one other aunt, and that's Aunt Selyse. We rarely see her though."

"If it would please you, princess," Lydia replied.

"I think it would, Aunt Lydia." The Princess was quite adorable. She had all her mother's beauty, but the innocence one only had as a child made her that more radiant. Lydia had smiled than, causing the Princess to giggle. "You have such a pretty smile, Aunt Lydia."

"I was just about to say the same to you!"

"What about my smile?" Prince Tommen asked. He grinned, causing Lydia to giggle.

"Wonderful, my prince. You'll grow to be a handsome man, like your father."

Jaime lifted the tent flap, allowing the trio into their temporary bedroom. Bluebell was lying across the fur on the end of the bed. She perked up as they entered, tongue lolling to the side as her tail began to thump against the furs. Prince Tommen whimpered, ducking behind his sister who stood as still as a statue. "There, there. Bluebell, come here." Bluebell stood, and stretched, giving herself a small shake before padding over to them. "Sit. Good girl. Just hold out your fist so she can sniff you." Princess Myrcella held out her fist confidently, while her brother watched in awe.

Bluebell sniffed it and huffed. She pushed her snout against the Princess's head, expecting to be petted. Myrcella giggled, and scratched the direwolf's chin. "That's right," Lydia encouraged. "She loves being scratched behind the ear. Prince Tommen, would you like to pet her?"

Prince Tommen looked at Lydia hesitantly, but nodded. He hesitantly extended his hand to be sniffed. Bluebell sniffed it and licked it, making the young prince laugh. "Her tongue's so soft."

"So is her fur, Tommen," Myrcella exclaimed. Bluebell's tail began to wag, and soon she was on her back while the royal children rubbed her belly. The laughed every time Bluebell sneezed, and Lydia could not help but smile.

"Alright, time for bed. There's still a long while until you reach King's Landing. You'll need your rest," Jaime said after a while. The children had reluctantly agreed and given Lydia their good night's before following their uncle back to the inn. Bluebell whined as they left, and Lydia rubbed her belly with her foot in comfort.

Changing into her nightgown, Lydia waited for her husband's return. Since their wedding night, Jaime had not bedded her, and Lydia was beginning to worry. They had slept in the same bed, but Jaime had shown no interest in her. He barely looked at her before crawling into bed, and did not even touch her throughout the night. It was nearly impossible to give him an heir if he did not fuck her.

Lydia waited. And waited. And waited.

Bluebell had dozed off and begun to snore by the time Lydia snuffed out her candle. _Perhaps he does not want others to hear,_ Lydia thought as fatigue took over her. She hoped that his attitude would change when they reached Casterly Rock. She did not want to shamed.


	8. Eddard II

**A/N:**

As of posting this chapter, I have over 100 followers and over 50 favs! Thank you so much!

Sadly, I'll be posting a little slower, as I have been put in charge of a project for my school so my attention needs to be focused on it. Hopefully I'll be posting at least once a week, but I am not making promises. However, thank you for your follows, favs and reviews! They mean so much to me!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Eddard**

Weeks had passed since the King and his company left the stony halls of Winterfell. The wilding woman, Osha, had told Ned all she knew about Mance Ryder and his plans in exchange for housing, though Ned had chains on her wrists and ankles. A wilding was still a wilding, and he would make sure his wife and children were safe.

Now left the problem of Mance Ryder. The self-proclaimed 'King Beyond the Wall' was raising an army if Ned was to believe Osha.

"He sent me, Wallen an' Stiv to do some scouting," Osha explained. "Wanted to know weak points, strong points, all that. We weren't supposed to go any farther than Deepwood Motte but Wallen gets it in his head that he'll take some highborn and bring'em back to Mance. Says a little leverage never hurt anybody. Stiv suggests Winterfell, and that's how we came upon your girl."

"How many scouting groups did Mance send?" Lord Eddard asked.

"One to Last Heath, Karhold and Dreadfort," Osha replied. "Mance wanted to know about them before we came to Winterfell. He'll most likely wait before he sends another group."

"How many men under Mance?"

Osha had smiled at that. "More then you could ever dream of."

Ned had dismissed her after that, with instructions of a warm meal and water for bathing. He had called Robb and Theon after, wanting their accounts of what happened.

"I was making sure Lydia's trunks were being properly loaded when Bluebell became anxious," Robb stated. "She whined loudly and went over to Ser Jaime and started barking at him. Then she ran off towards the Godswoods, with Ser Jaime following. I followed after with Theon."

Theon had continued with the story. "We got there just when Blue was shot at. I had seen the wilding in the tree so I shot him down while Robb circled around to capture that woman. Ser Jaime had already killed the other wilding, and was helping Lady Lydia."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No, my lord."

Ned had nodded and dismissed them. He had written a letter to the Night's Watch, asking how so many wildings were slipping past. Ned already knew that answer, but formalities were required before he could take action. As soon as Lord Mormont sent a raven back, Ned would call upon his lords. He had hoped to delay the inevitable, but he could not ignore this attack on his family. He had been so close to losing his daughter, and for once Ned was grateful to Ser Jaime.

"Ned?" Catelyn said as she entered his solar. She carried a tray of food with her, and Ned's stomach growled in appreciation. "My love, you missed dinner again."

"Forgive me," Ned replied, clearing his desk and gesturing for Catelyn to sit. "This Mance Ryder business had left me distracted, and with no letter from Lydia…my mind is creating terrible scenarios."

Catelyn smiled gently. Placing the food onto his desk, she made her way to him. Perching on the arm of his chair, Catelyn combed her fingers through his hair, nails gently scrapping against his scalp. Ned groaned in relief, and leaned against her touch. "Lydia said she would send a raven when she arrived at Casterly Rock. We'll receive one next week, and if not, then you have my permission to ride down to Casterly Rock and knock Lord Tywin's door down with demands of our daughter's whereabouts. Until then, my love, relax. Mance Ryder has miles of Wall between him and us." Catelyn cupped his face then and drew him into a deep kiss. "Forget about Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, for one night, my love. Be my husband and partake in your husbandry duty."

Ned chuckled against her lips. "Is sating my wife's needs part of that duty?"

Catelyn hummed and kissed him again. Calm began to seep through him. The tension in his shoulders lessened, the pounding at the top of his head dulled, and all he could feel was Catelyn. "Cat," Ned groaned. "By the Gods, I love you." Her giggle vibrated across his lips, and Ned smiled. He kissed her along her jaw, to the shell of her ear and down her neck, all while pulling at the ties of her dress. He would give her pleasure later in her chambers, but for now he just wanted her bare and against him.

A knock at his door ceased his actions and Ned groaned, bury his face against the crook of Catelyn's neck. "My lord?" Luwin called from the other side.

Ned opened his mouth to answer but his lady wife interrupted. "Your lord is a bit preoccupied, Maester. Is it urgent or can it wait?" Ned smiled and kissed Catelyn's neck. Gods, he was mad for this woman.

"Forgive me, my lady," Luwin replied. "A raven from the Night's Watch just arrived. It can be left for the morning, if preferred."

Catelyn looked down at him expectantly. Ned breathed deeply, the scent of his wife stirring the fire she had started moments ago. "It will have to wait until tomorrow Maester Luwin. My wife had brought an urgent matter to my attention and I cannot ignore it." Catelyn rolled her eyes, though a grin broke across her face.

He heard Luwin chuckle. "Very well, my lord. I'll see that the children go to bed."

"Thank you, and good night!"

Catelyn pulled gently at his hair, making him tilt his head back. He grinned up at her while playfully squeezing her thigh. "Very urgent indeed, and I believe it can only be solved in my chambers."

"Then by all means, my lady, lead the way."

* * *

Ned reread the letter from Commander Mormont. He knew that the Night's Watch had few men, but he had believed them to be the thousands at least. _Barely seven hundred men and not the best the realm has to offer, _Ned thought. His mind was clearer than the previous night, but the stress was creeping back. He would have to gather supplies for the Night's Watch, and possibly send builders to the Wall to repair their castles. If Mormont was correct, the wildings were finding ways to creep past Eastwatch and Shadow Tower. There was also the possibility of them scaling the Wall. _What do you hope to achieve Ryder? _

"Father?" Robb inquired. Ned glanced up from his letter and beckoned Robb inside his solar. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"A lesson Robb," Ned said. He handed his heir the letter, and gave him a moment to read over its contents. "There's a potential threat to the North, and I want to know how you would go about addressing it."

Robb nodded and read the letter once more. "The Night's Watch needs more men, and more supplies, that much is clear. We could send spare materials to them, perhaps even commission for new swords and bows, and I'm sure there are spare animals that could be sent. I would even send a letter to Southern houses, asking to send men to the Wall. Preparing the Night's Watch for whatever Mance Ryder has is store is a top priority." Ned nodded, and let his heir continue.

"In the meantime, the Northern houses should be sent letters that address what is happening and be on alert for suspicious characters. If what the wilding women said is true, there's a chance more scouts will appear in the coming months."

"And what would you do if this potential threat becomes a threat?" Ned asked, clasping his hands in front of him.

Robb frowned. "I would have to call upon our sworn houses. A threat to the Wall is a threat to the North."

Ned sighed but nodded. His son was reaching the same conclusions as him. "How would you go about securing these extra supplies for the Night's Watch?"

"There's always spare gold for emergencies," Robb stated. "If not, perhaps one of the Southern lords or even the King could loan us the gold, but the people of the North are loyal. I'm sure their ready to make a few sacrifices to protect their home. Father, you don't truly believe Mance Ryder could become a danger, do you?"

"I don't want to, Robb," Ned answered. "But a good Lord must always be prepared for war, but he must never seek it. Mance Ryder is not my problem at the moment, but I will not ignore him. Go; find Maester Luwin and your mother. I need to see just how much spare gold we have."


	9. Lydia V

**A/N: **I like writing Jaime being afraid of vaginas that don't belong to Cersei. It's oddly amusing to me.

And to Noble Enough, Lydia will reveal her claws eventually but the moment has to be just right.

* * *

**Lydia**

Casterly Rock was a formidable castle. It was built into and on top of the cliff that over looked both the Sunset Sea and Lannisport, and towered over everything like a great beast. Lydia's eyes widened at the sight of her new home. It had to be thrice the size, possibly even more, of both Winterfell and Highgarden. She could see the banners of her husband's house flapping in the distance, the roaring lion looking majestic on top of tall, pale towers. The sun gleamed just behind the castle, giving her new home a golden hue. _A golden castle for the Lannisters_, Lydia thought.

Her surprise must have been clear on her face, for Jaime chuckled and commented. "It is a bit grand, but it's no different from any other castle you've been in."

"My lord, your home is possibly the second biggest castle in all of Westeros," Lydia replied as she urged Sweet Boy forward. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit… overwhelmed."

A somewhat nostalgic look crossed Jaime's face. "I guess it is my home now," he muttered to himself. He slipped back to his usual bored expression, but smirked at her. "Well prepare yourself, my lady. If the castle has gotten you nervous, than you are sorely unprepared to meet your good-father."

_If Lord Tywin is anything like Lady Olenna then I should be fine,_ Lydia thought as they approached the Lion's Mouth. Waves crashed against the rock that formed the bridge, and Lydia frowned as droplets splashed against her face. _They couldn't have built some sort of cover?_

The road to Casterly Rock was a winding one, with a look-out post every half kilometer. Lydia saw glimpses of patrolling archers, and she wondered how many were hidden within the rocks that lined the path. _I can see why Casterly Rock has never been taken by force, _Lydia. She glanced behind her, noting how easy it was for two horses to climb the path side by side at a walk. _If we were to charge, more than a few horses would lose their footing. _The wagons that carried their trunks were at the back of the company, going at a much slower pace to ensure they did not stray from the path. _They only way to get a fair amount of soldiers to Casterly Rock would be by foot, and archers could easy thin the approaching army. _Tyrion was correct when he told her Casterly Rock defended itself.

She faced forward and jumped slightly at the hand in front of her face. "Copper for your thoughts?" Jaime asked with a smirk.

Lydia chuckled and took the star from him, twirling it in her hands before pocketing it. "I was complimenting Casterly Rock on its defenses. I can see why no army has taken her from the Lannisters."

"Oh?" Jaime said. "And why do you think that?"

"The Lion's Mouth is heavily armed, and if the iron doors were to close, it would take a heavy battering ram to open it," Lydia explained. "During which, archers could easy pick off the enemy soldiers. If they managed to break open the gates, only four men could walk the path, three if they wanted to charge. Horses would have to go one at a time, unless the riders wanted to fall to their doom." She pointed at a one of the archers. "For every archer I see, I'm positive Lord Tywin has another one hidden, and during war time, there would be more hidden within these rocks. Not to mention the advantage Casterly Rock soldiers would have over their enemy. I suspect there are places where knights and soldiers could appear if needed." She turned to Jaime and smiled. "We are too high up for ships, and no one's seen dragons for over a hundred years, so the castle itself would be safe from attack."

Jaime nodded, and faced forward. "You have a sharp mind, my lady. Was castle defenses before or after your harp lessons?"

Lydia repressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Lady Olenna did not teach me how to assess a castle," Lydia said. "My father did. He wanted to make sure Robb, Jon and I were prepared to defend Winterfell if anything were to happen." _If anything were to happen to him. To mother._

"Seems an odd thing to teach a lady."

"Is it? I was taught how to run a house, but how can I do that if my home comes under siege? It's not just a lord's duty to protect his home," Lydia said. "A true lady must be prepared to defend her house, whether it's its reputation or the castle itself." She faced forward, and noted how the path had widened considerably.

If Jaime meant to reply he was interrupted by a small procession of men. At the head of the procession was a handsome man, with shoulder length hair the colour of copper and light brown eyes. A smile crossed his face, and he brought his horse to a gentle stop. "Your father has sent me to guide you and welcome you home, Jaime," the man greeted.

"Does he fear I'll get lost? I admit, I haven't been home in a while but I have not forgotten how to get to the Rock," Jaime jested, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

"Formalities, more of a show if anything," the man replied. "Gods know this place will be swarming with lords and ladies for the next week. Speaking of," he bowed his head towards Lydia. "Forgive me for my manners, Lady Lannister. I am Ser Addam of House Marbrand, son of Lord Damon Marbrand. I am at your service."

Lydia nodded and smiled her prettiest smile. "Pleased to meet you Ser Addam, and there is nothing to forgive. I know a reunion between old friends when I see one."

"Oh, it's not a true reunion between us until we clash steel," Addam replied with a grin. His easy going smile disappeared quickly as Bluebell weaved her way past the horses. "What in the Gods." Bluebell ducked under Sweet Boy, making the horse huff and stomp his feet in irritation. Ser Addam's horse neighed nervously and began to back away. Bluebell cocked her head in confusion before approaching the horse to sniff it.

"Bluebell," Lydia warned. The wolf stopped in her tracks, and looked back her Mistress. Lydia gestured her to come back. Bluebell lowered her head slightly before padding back to Lydia's side. "My apologies, Ser Addam. Bluebell is just curious about her new home and all its inhabitants."

"This is your…dog? My lady?" Ser Addam questioned, watching Bluebell with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"Her direwolf," Jaime replied as he urged his horse forward. "Do not worry Addam; the pup has not acquired a taste for man flesh just yet."

Sweet Boy followed Jaime's destrier, and lumbered past Ser Addam. "That thing's a pup?" Ser Addam muttered to himself before following. Lydia giggled, and glanced back at the knight. Realizing what he said, Ser Addam grinned and chuckled. _I believe I can find an ally in Ser Addam._

* * *

Lord Tywin was an opposing man. Her good-father was in his mid-fifties, but he was as hard and unyielding as a man in his twenties. He was tall, with long legs and broad shoulders, and unlike the King, he did not allow age to fatten or soften him. Beneath his dark red tunic, Lydia could see that his thin arms were corded with muscle. His golden hair was combed back, and there was not a trace of scruff on his stern face. His pale green eyes were watchful and a lesser noble would have shrunk away from his gaze.

But Lydia was not a lesser noble.

She followed a step behind her husband, with Bluebell trailing just behind her. There were no other lords or ladies in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock, which Lydia was thankful for. She needed to direct all her strength and cunning towards Lord Tywin if was she to make a decent impression on him.

"Father," Jaime greeted. Lydia was not surprised that neither her husband nor her good-father smiled at one another. Both Lady Olenna and Willas had told her stories of the great Lord Tywin, and both had mentioned that he never smiled. He mistrusted both laughter and smiles if the rumours were true.

"Welcome home, Jaime," Lord Tywin replied. He turned his gaze to Lydia, and silently assessed and judged her. "You must be Lord Eddard Stark's daughter."

"Yes, my lord," Lydia replied. She curtsied gracefully, and let herself smile slightly. She knew a man like Lord Tywin would not be won over with pretty smiles and charming words. "It is an honour to meet you." Lord Tywin nodded in response, and his gaze shifted to Bluebell who sat obediently beside Lydia.

"A wolf," Lord Tywin stated. "Lord Stark is giving his children wolves?"

"My brothers' found them a few months ago, my lord. My father said we could keep them as long as we trained and cared for them," Lydia explained. "I swear to you that Bluebell will be well-behaved and not a nuisance to anyone. She is my responsibility, and I will take it seriously."

"See that you do," Lord Tywin said. "For I will not hesitate to send Lord Stark a wolf's pelt."

Lydia squared her shoulders, and looked her good-father in the eye without fear. "I understand, my lord."

"Good." He turned his attention back to his son, who watched the exchange with slight amusement. "Our banner men will be here in less than a sennight to meet you as my heir, and to introduce themselves to your wife. I do not need to tell you how important this feast will be for you, and for her." Lord Tywin turned his sharp gaze on Lydia for a split second, before glaring back at his son. "You will be under scrutiny, more so since you have a Northern bride."

"Blame our good King Robert-"

Lord Tywin cut in. "They won't care. As far as they're concerned your marriage is a slight against them. You will convince them otherwise. Now go. Dinner will be served an hour before sunset." He gestured to one of the pages. "Show my son and his wife to their rooms." With that final order, the Great Lion of the West left, leaving his son and good-daughter to follow the young yellow-haired boy.

Jaime sighed and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "Good to be home," he muttered to himself.

Lydia smiled slightly, wanting to place a comforting hand on her husband. She kept them folded in front of her, however. The past month had taught her that Jaime was not one for physical affection. _Or any kind of affection_, Lydia thought bitterly. "I'm sure your father is happy to have you home."

"I doubt it," Jaime stated. "If I had to guess, my father is feeling relieved and disappointed. Relieved because he has his heir back after all these years, and disappointed… well there are numerous reasons for him to be disappointed."

"Would I be part of these disappointments?"

"Probably. Don't feel too bad about it though. Father is disappointed in everyone and everything."

* * *

The evening meal went as smoothly as she could hope. Lord Tywin, for all his cool detachment and harsh words, conversed with her politely. He seemed quite interested about her fostering in Highgarden, most likely to see if her friendship with Lord Mace's children would benefit him in the future. Ser Addam had joined them for dinner, and just as Lydia suspected, the man was as easy-going as her husband though he was friendlier. Both her husband and his childhood friend exchanged stories with small smiles and restrained laughter, and Lydia knew that if Lord Tywin was not present the two men would be quite boisterous.

Despite this, Ser Addam's friendly disposition was infectious and Lydia found herself smiling. The sun had set by the time they retired to their rooms.

According to Jaime, their rooms were in the same wing as his childhood room. They had separate chambers, with Jaime's being closer to the stairs while Lydia's neared the back. Lydia was astonished by the sheer size of her room. A little hallway separated her room for the main entrance, giving her a bit more privacy. Her room included a small sitting area near a balcony that faced the sea, a large pale-gold coloured vanity table with a mirror, a bathing area and separated by a beautiful crafted archway was her bedroom. Her walls were the colour of cream, while her furniture varied between red, white, pale gold and cream. Her bed, which was quite large in her opinion, followed that theme, and deep red curtains hung from the wooden frame.

"Will you need anything else, my lady?" Elayne, her newly acquired maid, asked. She was a pretty little thing, with sandy blond hair and big brown eyes but a tad too skittish for Lydia's likening. Nora was less than happy with the thought of having to work with another maid, but a bigger room required more than a single pair of hands to keep it clean.

"No thank you, Elayne. I will see you in the morn," Lydia said with a smile. Elayne blushed and curtsied, before retreating to the maid's quarters. "What is your opinion on her?" Lydia asked, pulling her comb through her hair.

"She's meek, and if you talk too strictly to her, her voice gets all squeaky," Nora stated as she turned down the sheets of Lydia's bed. "But she's young, and pretty, and if we show her enough kindness and patience she'll be as loyal to us as I am to you." Lydia smiled and began to braid her thick hair. "Will you be retiring soon, my lady?"

"No," Lydia replied as she tightened her braid. "I think I'm going to go remind my husband of his duties to his wife." She slipped her cream coloured robe over her short pale blue nightgown. Her nightgown was a gift from Margaery and highly impractical for the cold nights of the North, but for the South it was more than sensible and a little bit flirty. She tilted her head, admiring the way the nightgown strained against her breasts and stopped mid-thigh. If this didn't tempt Jaime to bed her, she was truly doomed. Tying her robe shut, Lydia patted Bluebell on the head before venturing to her husband's quarters.

Both Jaime and Lord Tywin felt it unnecessary to post guards in their hallway, with Jaime arguing that no sane man would challenge him or risk angering a direwolf. Lydia was glad for that. She didn't need her good-father's guards trading stories about her body. Knocking on Jaime's bedroom door, Lydia waited. She raised an eyebrow at the sound of a cup being knocked to the ground, quickly followed by Jaime cursing. "What?" Jaime snapped his voice rough.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia loosened the top of her robe and opened the door. "Is everything alright, my lord?" She asked, feigning innocence. "I saw light coming from your door, and I was curious as to why you were still up." She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. Jaime, and everything around him, was a mess. His clothes and hair were unkempt, while quills and paper were strewn about the floor and his desk. A few feet in front of his desk was a tipped over goblet. She pushed off the door and picked up the goblet, toying with the rim before placing it back on Jaime's desk. "Late night studies?"

Jaime scoffed. He ran his fingers through his hair, flinching when he pulled threw a knot. "My father has decided to let me plan where every lord and lady will sit at our feast. Sadly, I haven't a damn clue about who doesn't want to kill whom or which lord is a scheming bastard and which one is a gullible idiot!" Jaime said. Lydia glanced at the paper in front of him. Crudely drawn boxes were scattered about it, with names scratched out in some while others had question marks beside them. "Quite frankly, I'm losing my mind."

Seizing her moment, Lydia let her robe slip open a bit more, exposing her collar and the tops of her breasts. "Perhaps you should take a break, my lord?" She suggested, leaning against the desk. She glanced down at him, and took a deep breath to emphasize her chest. Her heart swelled with pride when Jaime's eyes glanced at her cleavage but that pride disappeared when he shook his head.

"No," Jaime replied. "I don't think I do."

Sighing through her nose, Lydia readjusted her robe. _You won't get rid of me that easily._ "Then I shall help. These lords and ladies are my banner men as well," Lydia said as she sat in one of the spare chairs. "It would be foolish of me to not learn their names." She grabbed a clean piece of paper from the pile and drew a standard feast set-up. "Now, how many lords can we sit at one table?"


	10. Jaime II

**A/N: **Bookworm, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.

Read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**Jaime**

To Jaime there was no sound sweeter than two swords meeting. There was no sight as beautiful as sunlight gleaming off a sharpened blade. It made his blood boil and rush through his veins, while his vision tunneled. All he could think of was his next strike and his opponent.

_Right, left, strike, back!_

Jaime grinned, lifting his shield to block Addam's strike. "You're getting rusty, Addam," Jaime taunted, shoving his friend back.

Addam laughed whole heartedly. "Funny, I was just about to say the same to you!" He swung, aiming for Jaime's side but cursed when Jaime's blocked his blow. Roaring like a lion, Jaime thrust his shield forward, throwing Addam off his stance and leaving him open. Pulling his shield back, Jaime aimed for Addam's stomach only to be blocked by Addam's sword. They pushed against one another, the clashing metal hissing like an angry cat. Swinging his shield, Jaime swore as Addam stepped back. "Excited for your feast?" Addam asked as he adjusted his stance.

Casting aside his shield, Jaime took the offensive. "I can barely contain my excitement," Jaime dryly replied. "Hours of idle chatter with men the same age as my father. I can't think of a better way to spend an evening, really." They crossed swords once more, the metal clang making his blood sing. Jaime shoved Addam back and slashed at him horizontally.

"It won't be that bad," Addam said as he dodged Jaime's attack. "Lady Lydia will be there to assist you in entertaining your bannermen and, as luck would have it, the Gods have blessed your wife charm and wit. Something her husband severely lacks." Jaime rolled his eyes at his friend and swung at him again. Addam knocked Jaime's sword to the side, and took a step back.

"Watch your tongue Marbrand, or I really will kill you," Jaime jested, pointing at his friend with his sword.

"I'm shaking in my boots," Addam replied, laughing as his parlayed Jaime's attack. They traded blows for several more minutes before Addam called for a break. "I'm starting to think I'm getting to old for this," Addam said as he rolled his shoulder. He beckoned a page forward, and took the water skins from the young boy.

"Nonsense," Jaime replied as he took one of the skins. "You're only what? Fourty?"

"Ha ha. I'm half a year younger than you, but I assume you know this, old friend," Addam stated. "How have you been, Jaime? Surely being a member of the Kingsguard isn't like the songs."

"Not unless those songs praise how much we stand around," Jaime muttered. He took a gulp of water and peered up at the sky. A pair of hawks circled, screeching at one another. _Perhaps I'll take of hawking,_ Jaime thought. He doubted he would do so. Animals never seemed to like him. "The Kingsguard was my choice; I do not regret choosing it no matter what my father insists. I will miss it." _I will miss Cersei._

"And now you have a pretty wife to dot over. The Seven must smile upon you," Addam said with a smile.

"Addam, you've known me since boyhood. Have I ever been one to dot?" Jaime asked. He took another swig of his water skin. "And you can have her, since you're so enamored. Seven knows I never wanted this life."

"Our babes would be pretty," Addam remarked absentmindedly. "But I'm afraid the Lady Lydia would gut me if I even jokingly proposed an affair, followed quickly by your lord father beheading me. Frighteningly efficient, your lady wife is."

"Oh?"

"Word through the hall is that she's been up at the crack of dawn prepping for the feast tomorrow, and when she's not doing that she's been with the seneschal _and_ steward memorizing all the lords and ladies names, along with their children."

Jaime grunted in acknowledgement. He believed Addam on Lydia being efficient. They had worked late into the night on the seating arrangements for the various lords, and she had worn that damn clinging robe throughout it. More than once he had considered taking his rights as her husband, but he couldn't do it. _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ Cersei's voice echoed in his head. Instead he had focused on planning their feast, and by the hour of the owl they had planned most of it.

His father had approved, though he shuffled a few lords around before calling for his seneschal to see to his son's plans. Jaime had mentioned that Lydia had helped, to which his father responded "then she won't mind supervising," before dismissing him and returning to his work. That little command had left Jaime with a lot of free time. He occasionally stopped by the Golden Gallery to lend his assistance, but between Lydia and Seneschal Seyfert his 'assistance' was really a nuisance. He had then proceeded to spend his time in the training yard. "She is impressive. I would bet the King was hoping Ned Stark's daughter was a witless girl, so he could laugh as Lord Tywin had to accept an idiot as his good-daughter," Jaime said.

Addam grinned. "If she keeps doing what she's doing, Lord Tywin will be the one laughing."

"What a terrifying thought."

* * *

A thought that was becoming more and more realistic. Not many things impressed Jaime, but the sight of the Golden Gallery did. The elaborate gold design on the marble pillars was polished to an almost blinding shine, as was the cream marble floor. Numerous round tables were set up, with blood red tables cloths draped on top of them. Eight cream coloured chairs circled the tables, each with a golden coloured cushion. The numerous golden chandeliers that hung from the cove ceiling were lit with tall candles, and each one shone brightly. The curtains around the large windows that faced the sea, were pulled back, allowing the soon to arrive guests a view of the sun setting over the sea. Near the back musicians practiced their instruments.

Jaime whistled lowly, and glanced up at the ceiling to admire the gold and cream designs that lined the curve of the ceiling. "Would that mean you are impressed, my lord?" Lydia asked. Jaime felt his mouth go dry when he looked at Lydia. She wore a dress of the lightest purple that faded to white with long bell shaped sleeves. Light green vines and soft pink flowers decorated the bodice and a strip of cloth that sat in the middle of her dress. A hair band made from fresh water pearls was set perfectly in her hair, with a pair of dangling earrings to match. "My lord?" Lydia questioned, titling her hair slightly.

Jaime cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very plain in his vanilla coloured doublet and black breeches. "You look…clean," Jaime complimented. He cringed mentally. _Clean? You can calm Cersei down from her rages but when it comes to complimenting, the best you can come up with is clean?_ Jaime scolded himself.

Lydia smiled and giggled. "You look clean yourself, my lord. Shall we join your father in the foyer to greet our guests?" Jaime nodded and held out his arm for his lady wife. She looped her arm around his and allowed him to lead her to the foyer. Heat and low conversation greeted them as they entered the foyer. Jaime saw his father quietly chatting with one of his bannermen, but as soon as their eyes met Lord Tywin excused himself and made his way over.

"Lady Lydia, you look lovely," Lord Tywin complimented.

"Thank you, my lord," Lydia replied with a smile.

His father nodded stiffly at Jaime's wife, then turned his attention on Jaime. "I will have them announce your presence, and then you will thank our bannermen for attending your feast. Understood?" His father questioned.

"Yes father."

"Good." His father turned to a man and nodded at him before stepping away.

"My lords and ladies!" The man announced. The numerous nobles quieted and turned their attention on Jaime and his lady wife. "May I present Ser Jaime Lannister and his wife, Lady Lydia, future Lord and Lady of the Westernlands."

The lord and ladies of the West clapped for the new couple, and Jaime resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Yes, yes. Clap all you want, when all you really wanted was for the woman on my arm to be your daughter rather than Stark's._ He glanced at Lydia, unsurprised to find her smiling prettily. "My lords and ladies," Jaime said. "I thank you for joining us today at my lady wife and I's celebration feast. It is a great honour to have so many loyal lords and ladies with us, so won't you please join my lady wife and I in the Golden Gallery for an evening of celebration?" Jaime smiled handsomely as the nobles clapped their approval. _Now we begin a night of false pleasantries._

* * *

How Lydia convinced his father that a ten course meal was sufficient, Jaime would never know. In truth, he had imagined having to pick at twenty different meals but instead he managed to eat a decent portion of all his meals. Lord Tywin sat to his left, conversing lowly with Kevan. To his right, his lady wife sat with Addam to her right. The two were chatting quietly as well, leaving Jaime to his thoughts. There were six and ten noble houses in the Golden Gallery at the moment, which meant at minimum Jaime would have to converse with two and thirty different lords and their lady wives. Jaime glanced around the Gallery, taking note of which lords brought their heir and how many of them were of age with him. _Ten heirs that are my age, and more that are not. Warrior give me strength_, Jaime thought. He sighed and took a gulp of wine.

"It seems your husband would rather be somewhere else," Addam laughed.

"I believe you are correct, Addam," Lydia added.

"Addam? Since when did you two become so friendly?" Jaime asked, toying with the rim of his goblet. He turned towards the two, noting the smiles on their faces.

"Why, just now while you were brutally murdering your dessert," Addam replied. "You were missing out on such a delightful conversation. Really Lady Lydia," Addam leaned in towards Lydia, "you are wasted on such an ungrateful man." Jaime felt his eye twitch.

He was just about to retort, when Lydia's gentle laugh stopped him. "Why Ser Addam, if you feel so strongly about it, perhaps you should bring it up with my good-father," she said, smiling prettily. "I'm sure Lord Tywin would love to hear your explanation on why his son is not worthy of my hand." Jaime leaned against his hand and grinned at his old friend, who looked quite taken back.

Addam shocked expression soon turned into a grin, and he met Jaime's eyes. "I retract my earlier statement! The Lady Lydia is perfect for you!" He grabbed a goblet and held it high. "A toast to the future Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock!" Lydia smiled and held up her goblet before taking a small sip. Jaime smirked and took another gulp. He glanced at his lady wife, noting the way her red-gold hair fell into soft curls, just stopping at her waist. She sat tall and straight, and the way that her dress was cut emphasized her full bosom. Jaime forced himself to look away, not enjoying the feeling of arousal that shot through him. He placed his wine goblet down and beckoned for water.

"My lord, I believe it's time for us to address the nobles," Lydia whispered.

Jaime glanced at her, and nodded. "You should address them this time. Let them know that their future Lady will rule them as well as their future Lord," Jaime suggested.

"If that is what you wish." Jaime nodded and stood, making the murmur of their guests cease. "My lords and ladies," Lydia began. "I hope you found your meal satisfying, and my lord husband and I thank you once again for joining us tonight. Now I would ask you to join my lord husband and I on the ballroom floor for some dancing and mingling. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you." She smiled prettily as the nobles murmured their approval before taking Jaime's arm.

"Each and every one of them, hmm?" Jaime said.

"Formalities, dear husband. It would be rude of me to not commit a face to a name, now would it not?" Lydia stated. She released his arm and curtsied. Placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand, she continued. "Not to mention, I need to know which lord or lady would find my untimely death utterly _distressing._" Jaime had to grin at the sarcastic tone she used. The music began, and he spun his lady wife around the dance floor. Soon other couples began to join them.

"Well, now that they know my father is not opposed to marrying me to someone half my age, I suppose many lords and ladies would find your untimely death, _distressing,_" Jaime teased. Jaime raised an eyebrow as a small frown crossed Lydia's face. "What?"

"Does my age truly bother you?"

Jaime was taken back a moment. Did it? True she was half his age, but as far as the rest of society was concerned she was a woman grown. She certainly carried herself like a woman. Jaime stared at her. Unlike his sister there were no age lines, no worry lines or frown lines, just smooth unblemished skin. She had no stretch marks from pregnancy, she did not complain about aches or pains that only came from age. His lady wife acted like a woman of thirty but she was still six and ten, and barely out of girlhood in his eyes.

Jaime opened his mouth to respond, but the music ceased and Lydia stepped away from him. She gave him a small smile, and took his arm. "Shall we go greet our guests?"

* * *

"Strongboar seems to have taken quite the shinning to your wife," Addam commented as he sauntered over to Jaime's side. Jaime glanced at the dance for and sure enough, Ser Lyle Crakehall was twirling Lydia around the ballroom floor. The two seemed to be happy enough, with Strongboar's booming laughter echoing throughout the hall and Lydia smiling her pretty lady smile. "I'd be careful if I was you, I may tease at stealing your wife but Ser Lyle might actually do it." At that moment, Ser Lyle picked Lydia up by her waist to lift and twirl her, causing his lady wife to laugh joyously. "Perhaps you should go cut in."

"No need," Jaime stated, pointing to Lydia. Ser Lyle was smiling widely as he escorted Lydia from the dance floor. "But I will remind Ser Lyle who Lady Lydia's husband is." Addam chuckled and nodded, leaving to go find his father as Jaime made his way to his wife. "Enjoy your dance?" Jaime asked as he approached the pair.

"Ser Jaime!" Lyle Crakehall greeted, his voice booming. "I must know where you found such a beautiful, lively wife!"

Lydia smiled and blushed. "Ser Lyle, you flatter me!"

"I only speak the truth, my lady!"

"The North," Jaime cut in irritably. He put on his best smile and held out his arm for Lydia. She cocked an eyebrow but took his arm, not before thanking Ser Lyle for the dance. "My lady wife was born in the North and fostered in the South. Perhaps, Ser Lyle, there is another like her for you to wed."

"Would that be true, Ser Jaime, but I fear your wife is one of a kind," Ser Lyle bowed. "May I ask for another dance, my lady?"

"I would love to, Ser Lyle, but for now I must give my attention to my husband," Lydia replied. "I believe he would like to introduce me to more of his bannermen."

"Ah, formalities. I understand. I shall seek you out later then, my lady," Ser Lyle said. "Ser Jaime." He nodded sharply, and left.

"He was being friendly," Lydia said harshly when Ser Lyle was well enough away. "Ser Lyle is cut from the same cloth as Lord Umber and his son. He meant no harm."

Jaime looked down at her, and scowled. "You don't know that," Jaime declared. "For all you know his father is trying to ruin your reputation. Or perhaps you enjoyed the attention from such a _lively_ man."

Lydia looked at him, her expression tight. "I thank you for your concern about my _reputation_," she said, stressing the word. "But I'll have you know I can fight my own battles, and as far as Ser Lyle goes," she turned away from him. "At least he seems interested in getting to know me."

Jaime's scowl deepened. "Lord Serrett has a daughter a year older then you," Jaime said through gritted teeth. "My father suggested that you befriend her."

"Very well, my lord," Lydia replied evenly, her face relaxing. Her ability to brush of his attempts at getting a real emotional response from her was beginning to annoy him. Jaime breathed deeply and let his face slip back into his usual bored expression.

_I'm going to rip that mask of yours off one day._


End file.
